Hope at the End of the World
by Fallon-Idalia
Summary: When a stranger saves one of their own, Rick and Hershel decide she can be trusted and offer her a place at the farm. While Shane maintains that she can't be trusted, Daryl finds himself drawn to her. But do her scars cut too deep? Or is there a chance for something good in a world of darkness? Daryl X OC
1. Author's Note

**Author's Note & Content Warning:**

"The Walking Dead" and all characters within belong to the brilliant mind that is Robert Kirkman. Characters you do not recognize from the series belong to me.

This story has been a long time coming. I adore "The Walking Dead" & Daryl Dixon is by far my favourite character (how can anyone not love our crossbow wielding hero!). All through seasons one and two I had those "what if" moments, places where I thought just if "this" happened that it would be so bad-ass. This story is the result of those "what-ifs".

Needless to say, this story will contain scenes of a dark and disturbing nature (it is the Walking Dead after all – can't have rainbows and kittens!).

Thank you in advance for any and all reviews, they're much appreciated :)

**- Fallon.**


	2. Prologue

**Author's Note: **"The Walking Dead" and all characters within belong to the brilliant mind that is Robert Kirkman. Characters you do not recognize from the series belong to me. This story will contain scenes of a very mature and graphic nature (walker take-downs, violence, gore, sex) - this is the Walking Dead after all!

Begins during season two and will continue into season three and beyond. Eventual Daryl X OC, other pairings might be added.

Any and all reviews are greatly appreciated – Fallon.

**Prologue**

Carl was tired of feeling useless.

His father, T-Dog and Daryl had gone out to continue their search for Sophia, planning on hitting some areas of interest they had identified on the map Hershel had provided. He'd asked to go along with them, but had been shot down.

He was still healing from the gunshot to the chest that had nearly killed him, or so everyone insisted.

He didn't feel perfect, but he certainly felt better than he had, _definitely_ well enough to accompany the others on their search. And yet no one stood up for him when he asked his father, even Shane wasn't on his side; which disappointed him more than anything.

Beyond frustrated, Carl rolled out of bed and started to get dressed. He glanced out the window and spotted his mother talking to Shane near the RV. Carol was reclining against a tree and had Beth with her. Maggie and Glenn were nowhere to be seen and Andrea was perched atop the RV, acting as lookout.

It would have been enough to deter most, but not him. He knew how to get around unnoticed. Even when he wasn't trying people seemed to forget about him. This time though he was going to use it to his advantage.

He put on his father's hat, grabbed his knapsack and slipped out into the kitchen. He listened carefully for any movement in the old farm house, and after a few moments decided he was alone. It didn't take him long to find a butcher's knife and food for the road, though he did feel bad for taking from Hershel when the man had been so kind to him.

Oh well, Carl told himself, Hershel will understand in the end.

_When I bring Sophia home they'll all understand that I'm not a kid anymore. _

Carl opened the back door just a crack, checked to make sure no one from the group was around, and made a dash for the forest.

As soon as he passed through the trees he let out a breath he wasn't aware he had been holding. Even though walkers could be anywhere, he found himself appreciating just how beautiful the forest was. In another life perhaps he'd be there camping with his father and Shane, laughing with Sophia and roasting marshmallows around the campfire with Glenn and the others.

But Carl realized that wasn't the life he was living now, now he had to remain dedicated and find his friend so Carol would stop crying and everything would go back to the way it was.

Hopefully when Sophia was back everyone would start smiling again.

* * *

Carl ripped through the tangled underbrush as the walkers shuffled after him. Tears fell down his cheeks, born from exhaustion and frustration as well as fear.

He hadn't been expecting so many and he knew now that that assumption had been foolish. The butcher's knife he had taken from the Greene's kitchen remained clutched in his hand but he didn't dare slow down to attempt an attack on the creatures that followed him. He wished he had taken the time to search for a gun before leaving, although leaving in the first place was turning out to be a very bad idea.

All he could do now was try to make it to the farm and hope someone was nearby to help him before it was too late. His chest throbbed along the stitches Hershel had made and he had to clutch a hand over it to relieve some of the ache as he ran.

The toe of his shoe caught a gnarled tree root that jutted out of the ground and sent Carl flying forward. He landed on gravel and smacked his head against the ground with enough force to impair his vision. Pain washed over his entire body but when he tried to scream no sound left his lips.

He reached down and grasped his ankle only to have the pain intensify.

Panic heightened his senses and caused terrifying images to flash in his mind.

_It's broke…oh my god it's broken…they're going to get me!_

His gaze darted around him, to the stumbling figures that were getting too close. They smelled fierce, like they had been rotting in the Georgia sun for days, and Carl had to put a hand over his mouth to stop from vomiting.

The mangled moans of the walkers were getting closer with every passing second.

He felt around for the knife but found only rocks and moss.

Just as the shadows of the walkers loomed over him, he heard the tell-tale swish of a blade slicing through the air and the muted thump of a body crumpling to the ground. It was enough to catch the attention of the remaining walkers, both of which turned to face a figure Carl couldn't quite make out.

He squinted, trying to determine who had saved him, as the figure slashed through the walkers and sent body parts flying. The unique metallic twang of dead blood filled his nostrils and he tried to crawl away, only to be stopped by the unrelenting bile building at the back of his throat.

When the carnage ended and silence returned to the forest, Carl slumped back against the gravel and laid helpless as the figure stood over him. His eyes fluttered as the figure bent down next to him and closed completely as the figure laid a cold hand on his forehead.


	3. Lost & Found

**Disclaimer: **"The Walking Dead" and all characters within belong to the brilliant mind that is Robert Kirkman. Characters you do not recognize from the series belong to me. Any and all reviews are greatly appreciated – Fallon.

**Chapter One**

"_All the same take me away; we're dead to the world. The child gave thought to the poet's words, gave comfort to the fallen…" – "Dead to the World" by Nightwish _

"Carl!"

Lori waited; hoping to hear him answer her in the pause, then began again.

"Carl! Baby, please answer me!"

Rick's voice joined hers but after a few minutes he turned on his heels and raked his fingers through his sweat drenched hair, certain that their cries were doing no good.

"He probably just went to look for Sophia," Carol offered as she wrapped her arms around herself to stave off some of bite of the early evening air. "He was so worried".

Dale nodded reassuringly, though his eyes showed his fear, "The boy was upset when he was told he couldn't go with you, Rick."

"Carl knows better," Rick insisted, "He's still weak from the surgery for Christ's sake!"

Hershel nodded solemnly as he leaned against the bannister. "I have to admit, Rick, this isn't good. He's not fit for any sort of exertion."

Rick let out a pained groan and clutched onto the railing with enough force to turn his knuckles white. He felt powerless and the rest of the group could see that plain enough, though none judged him for it.

Dale held up his hands defensively, "Let's take a step back, shall we. Who was the last person to see Carl?"

Lori raised a hand from where she stood beside Rick. She was shaking violently and her face was red from her sobs.

"I…I was with him all through the night. After lunch I stepped out to get some fresh air. He was sleeping so I didn't see the trouble."

She broke down before the last syllable left her lips and Carol had to help her to the steps so she could sit down.

Everyone in the group eyed each other nervously. Two children missing over the span of a few days? The odds were stacking against them though none wanted to voice their concern.

Dale scanned the group, "Was that the last time?"

T-Dog wracked his brain but came up with nothing and offered an apologetic shrug. "It was quite most of the day, nothing out of the ordinary that I saw."

"Saw a few walkers through the scope," Andrea added, "but none came close to the property."

Her news only made Lori's sobs intensify.

"Fuck people, what are we all standin' around for?" Daryl spat in frustration as he drew his crossbow and readied an arrow, "We still got daylight."

Rick swallowed hard, nervous for his son, and nodded. "Daryl's right. We still got an hour or two of sunlight left, we've got to make the most of it."

Daryl didn't wait for volunteers; he started walking the perimeter of the house searching for any trace of Carl, any clue as to which direction he had taken off in.

"I'm going with you." Shane added stubbornly as he started off toward the RV and the stash of guns he knew was within.

Rick stopped his pursuit of Daryl and raised a hand to stop Shane, "I need you here, Shane. If you push yourself that ankle is going to make a cripple of you."

"He's right." Hershel added, "Traipsing through the woods in your condition will land you with crutches."

Shane cussed under his breath but a pleading look from Lori quieted him.

Daryl stood impatiently beside the house, "You coming or am I suppose' to do this myself?"

"Go, Rick." Hershel insisted softly, "We'll have people search the perimeter here, see if we can spot any sign of the boy."

"Maybe you'll even find Sophia." Carol offered with a half-hearted smile.

Rick nodded to the both of them and hurried to catch up to Daryl.

* * *

"Do you think there's a chance in hell we'll find them?" Rick asked after nearly twenty minutes of tense silence.

Daryl kept his gaze fixed on the ground and spoke gruffly, "This is Georgia, not the fuckin' Amazon. You people give up too easily."

Rick scanned the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse something, anything to tell him they were going the right way. He trusted Daryl's tracking abilities entirely, but Rick knew there was a lot of ground ahead of them to cover and a lot of walkers standing between them and Carl.

"You saw the map, Daryl."

"Still ain't hopeless," Daryl said without hesitation, "less you're ready to roll over and give up."

He glanced back at Rick over his shoulder, giving him a questioning look.

Rick's expression soured and his brow furrowed, "Do I look like I am?"

Daryl huffed and went back to the task at hand.

Truth was, the way they were misplacing children had Daryl pissed off. Sure there were people out looking for them, worried about them, but that wasn't going to ensure they got home in one piece – not when walkers were a factor.

Daryl crouched down low and squinted ahead of them.

Rick squatted beside him, knife drawn.

"Two…three bodies…walkers." Daryl said in a hushed voice, "Take the right."

Rick nodded and made his way up the right, mimicking Daryl as he made his way cautiously up the left.

When they came together before the bodies, both men had to breathe through their mouths just to keep from gagging.

Daryl was the first to step closer to get a better look. The walkers looked like they were barely being held together when they were finally killed. Flesh looked to be all that held the walking sacks of puss together, muscle long since eaten away. Two were missing the top halves of their heads while the third had had its head cleaved in two.

"No way your boy did this himself." Daryl said grimly as he pursed his lips together in an attempt to keep the bile down, "Even completely healed there'd be no way."

Rick nodded as he shifted closer. He had faith in his son's ability to survive, but with an abdominal wound and more than one walker on his tail there was no way this was his son's doing.

"Agreed."

Daryl glanced up at Rick, locking eyes with the former deputy.

"Then who else is up here?"

* * *

The boy groaned and shifted in his sleep, she assumed from a fever induced nightmare.

She had fixed the boy up as best as she could, but she had no antibiotics to fight any infection that was ripping its way through his fragile body. Silently, she slipped closer to him and whipped his face down with a cool cloth.

The last thing she expected to find in the woods was a child, especially one that hadn't been bitten but even those were rare.

She guessed he was likely twelve and based on the healing slice down his chest and stomach he had recently undergone some sort of surgery. But the very idea sounded ridiculous, civilization had been obliterated. There was nothing left now.

Expect, she told herself wearily, the farm.

She had been watching them for some time, but had never seen a child as young as this boy there. Two men, a teenage boy and two teen girls and a middle aged woman, the last time she had been near enough to count.

"Where…did you c-come from?" She asked the sleeping boy in a voice softer than a whisper.

As if he had heard her through the fog of his delirium, the boy opened his eyes and stared right at her.

She leaned in closer to him, kissing his forehead to judge his temperature just as her mother had done for her many years ago.

The boy's dry lips parted and he croaked out a single word before pausing to catch his breath, "M-Mom?"

She shook her head and saw that the boy's eyes began to dart around the room.

"You…you are safe." She hardly recognized her own voice but forced herself to find it again in order to help the boy.

It had been months since she had spoken, and her voice sounded new and innocent, nothing like the person she was. Where was the bitter growl she heard in her nightmares?

"Who…are…you?" He wheezed; his chest falling heavily from the sheer energy it took to form those few words.

"Emilia Faire."

Truthfully she was shocked that she remembered her own name, or that she said it with such certainty. When was the last time she had had to introduce herself? The more she thought about it the bleaker her expression became, so she turned her focus back to the child.

"Who are you?"

He licked his lips, "Carl…Grimes."

She fetched her water skin from her nearby pack and helped him take a well needed sip.

He sighed as the cool water flowed down his desert-dry throat.

"Thank…you."

Emilia nodded, "Where are you from?"

Carl coughed, cringing as pain shot through his abdomen. He clutched his stomach and slowly relaxed so as not to strain the already inflamed stitches.

"Farm…"

She quirked a brow, "The old man's farm? With all the cattle?"

He could only manage a nod.

Emilia glanced beyond him to the mouth of the cave. She suspected it was nearly midnight and that trying to move him down the hill without the aid of sunlight would be foolish.

Carl whimpered and pawed at the earth between them, searching for her hand.

Emilia gave it to him; aware it was the only form of comfort she could offer the battered child.

"My…ankle…" Carl stammered as tears fell down his cheeks.

"I reset it," she whipped the sweat of his brow with her free hand, "I don't believe it was too severe, but all I could do was form a makeshift support around it until I get you back to the farm."

Carl leaned his head back and squeezed his eyes shut, "It hurts…oh God it hurts!"

Emilia glanced around the cave and spotted a bottle of whiskey she had been saving for a special occasion. She didn't dare give it to him though, not when he likely had a head injury. What little she knew about such things told her that would be a poor decision.

"Carl…look at me."

He slowly tilted his head toward her, his chin quivering as he fought to keep it together.

"Can you see me, Carl? How many fingers am I holding up?"

He strained to open his eyes more, but saw only her outline in the dim light of the small fire she kept.

"I…see where you are…but not…what you look like."

Emilia supposed it was better than nothing, although she still felt the pinch of time working against her and the boy.

"We've a few hours until the sun rises," she said as soothingly as she could muster, "I need you to stay awake until then."

He rolled his head to the side and whimpered.

Emilia hadn't spoken to anyone in months and had thought long ago that she had forgotten exactly how to, but she managed to quickly think of a question to distract the boy.

"Who are you at this farm with?"

Carl hesitated, unsure whether or not his parents would want him divulging such information. But this woman, Emilia as she called herself, had saved him and cared for him to the best of her abilities and she was going to take him back, so he saw no harm in answering her. The pain was so great he doubted he could stay silent for long.

"D-Dad…m-mother…friends…we're trying t-to find her."

"Who are you trying to find?"

Carl grunted and tears welled up in his eyes, "He's going…to be so mad at me."

Emilia squeezed his hand tightly, "Carl, focus on the sound of my voice. Who is going to be mad at you?"

* * *

Rick sat on the veranda, an untouched cup of coffee in his hand, staring out at the forest as the sun began to creep up over the peaks of the trees. It had been a long and restless night and Rick was ready to put an end to it.

He knew somewhere out there his son was alone, scared, just like Sophia. Maybe this was his punishment for losing Sophia? Maybe the Almighty was getting one last joke in on him…

Daryl approached him cautiously, aware of how tense the man was likely to be. "Ready to move out?"

They had spent hours combing the woods and come up with nothing more concrete then the decapitated walkers they had seen the night before. Daryl had been able to find a few tracks, but didn't get too far beyond the walkers when it had started to rain heavily. He was hoping today would reveal fresh tracks, but suspected he'd have to rely on more than footprints to find Carl.

Rick sat down his coffee and glanced at Daryl to find him already suited up, a full quiver of arrows on his back and a hunting knife strapped to his belt.

Rick fell into pace beside Daryl as he started for the woods yet again, "Have you thought any more on this mystery character we've got in the woods?"

Judging by the whisper Rick was speaking in, Daryl guessed he hadn't told Lori or the others.

Daryl hadn't stopped thinking about it, but he wasn't about to let Rick see that.

"Some."

* * *

Emilia covered the remains of her fire with dry dirt from the back of the cave and returned to Carl's side.

He was still in a daze, but at least he was awake. She knew he had to be in shock since he had stopped whimpering in pain an hour or so ago.

She strapped her machetes to her hips and pulled on her jean jacket, snapping the buttons closed before pulling the blanket tighter around Carl. "Ready to go, kid?"

He moaned his response and she heaved him into her arms. She knew travelling was going to take a long time given all the breaks she would need to take, but it was her only option. Leaving him in the cave while she went for help simply wasn't an option.

"I'll get you home, don't you worry, Carl."


	4. Confrontations

**Disclaimer: **"The Walking Dead" and all characters within belong to the brilliant mind that is Robert Kirkman. Characters you do not recognize from the series belong to me. Thank you for all of the lovely reviews and faves! Your support is greatly appreciated! – Fallon.

**Chapter Two**

"_The world began without man, and it will end without him." – Claude Levi-Strauss_

It had taken longer than she would have liked, but Emilia could finally see the farm through the thin branches at the very edge of the woods.

She could see people in the distance, moving around an RV that had been parked near a cluster of tents. In the few days it had been since she'd gotten this close, she had missed the arrival of these new people, Carl's people.

"Emilia?"

She glanced down at him, forcing a smile in the hopes it would lighten his spirits. Her arms and back ached from carrying him, but she told herself it was almost done, Carl was almost home.

"Let's get you home, kid."

She stepped out of the trees and headed for the farmhouse.

* * *

Daryl knelt and ran his fingers over a footprint captured in the mud. "Look here."

Rick tried not to get his hopes up, "A walker?"

He considered it for a moment before brushing it off. "No way, see here? The heel of the print sinks into the mud more than the toe."

"What does that mean?"

Daryl shrugged and slung his crossbow over his shoulder, "Either we got one fucked up walker or someone's been by here carryin' somethin' heavy."

"Then we must have just missed them!" Rick exclaimed as he followed Daryl down the slope back the way they came.

"Fucker's goin' to the farm," Daryl hissed as he picked up his pace.

* * *

Emilia tensed as members of Carl's group saw her and started shouting to one another. It had been her hope all along that they wouldn't do anything stupid, but the hate she felt coming off of one of them gave her reason to pause.

Something about him didn't sit right in her gut, and she had learned early on in life that trusting that first instinct kept you alive. Horrible memories resurfaced briefly in her mind only for her to force them back down and told herself "no", at least until she was in a safer place to deal with them. Emilia eyed the man; certain he'd give her trouble. He was a mountain of muscle and probably the most physically capable of the group if she was to guess, with dark hair and even darker eyes. He walked with a slight limp, but he still exuded arrogance like a walker did rot.

She didn't need two eyes to see that.

The man raised a shotgun, ignoring the protests of an older man behind him, and circled Emilia so he was behind her.

She felt the barrel of the gun press into the base of her neck and she immediately felt a part of herself retreat into her mind, hiding from the bully she was currently cornered by.

"Drop…the…boy." The man demanded in a low growl.

Emilia carefully lowered Carl to the ground and as she stood back up, a terrified looking woman with long brown hair rushed forward.

"Carl! Carl, speak to me!"

"He fell and hit his head." Emilia said as calmly as she could manage, "and broke his ankle."

The older man came forward and knelt beside the woman, pulling off the blanket around Carl to get a better look at his state.

"We need to get him inside." He whispered to the woman, who immediately took Carl into her arms and headed for the farmhouse.

As some of the others went to help the woman get Carl inside, the old man gave Emilia a look then turned his attention to the man holding a gun to her head.

"You'll lower that weapon, son."

"Like hell, we don't even know who she is!"

The older man looked at her, "What's your name?"

She swallowed hard but could tell that this man at least meant her no harm. He had a grandfatherly feel about him and, judging from the looks the others gave him, he was respected.

"Emilia."

He nodded, offering a small smile, before turning back to the other man, "Shane, this is Emilia. And this is my property, so drop your weapon."

"With all due respect, Hershel, shouldn't you be looking at Carl right now?" Shane said in a cold whisper, his breath tickling Emilia's ear and sending a shiver of revolt down her spine.

"Not until you do as I say." Hershel said sternly, clearly not one to back down, even from someone the likes of Shane.

From the corner of her good eye Emilia saw a young Asian tentatively approaching, his hands held slightly up as if to defend himself.

"Listen, Carl needs Hershel right now, Shane. Just…just forget this chick for now and focus on him."

"Shut up, Glenn!" Shane snapped, pushing the barrel of his gun harder against Emilia's head.

From Glenn's side a young woman stomped over to Shane and forcefully pushed the gun away from Emilia.

Hershel's eyes opened wide, "Maggie!"

She stood her ground, unwavering despite the glare Shane was giving her.

"You leave her alone and let my daddy go take care of Carl!"

Shane glared at Emilia, "We can't trust her!"

"I'll keep an eye on her; take her to the stables until Rick gets back." Maggie offered, "Just back off."

His face contorted in anger, but he allowed his shotgun to fall to his side and finally stormed off toward the farmhouse, Hershel following close behind him.

Emilia relaxed some, but the eyes of the rest of the group were still fixed on her and she wanted nothing more than to retreat back into the woods. That had been her original plan, to get Carl home then go home herself.

But it didn't look like that was going to happen anytime soon.

A blond woman approached Maggie, a length of rope in her hands.

"We need you to come with us," Maggie said as she took the rope, "I'm sure you won't do anything but we need to keep everyone else calm."

The idea of being restrained didn't appeal to Emilia, but she did see where Maggie was coming from.

"As long as _he_ stays away from me, I'll go along with you."

* * *

Rick reached the farmhouse ahead of Daryl.

He sprinted up the stairs and burst through the door.

Carl was back in the bed he had been in before, except this time more of him was bandaged. Hershel was working on a cast and the mere sight of it sent Rick's heart plummeting into his stomach.

Lori looked up at him, "Oh, god, Rick…"

Rick nervously rubbed his chin and paced at the foot of Carl's bed.

"He'll be alright, son, calm down." Hershel assured him, "He had a good knock to the head that caused a concussion but he's showing no symptoms now."

Daryl appeared in the doorway, breathing heavily and a sheen of sweat covering him.

"Boy's alright?"

Rick looked back at him and nodded.

Hershel patted Carl's arm as he sat up, "He's also got a broken ankle, but Emilia must have set it before she splinted it."

"Who the fuck is Emilia?" Daryl asked gruffly as he whipped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

Rick looked at Lori for an answer but she merely looked away and held onto Carl's hand.

"The young girl, who brought your boy back home," Hershel explained as he washed his hands, "Maggie and Andrea have her down at the stables. But Rick, you need to know Shane nearly blew off her head when she came to us."

Lori sniffled but confirmed what Hershel said, "It's true, Rick. Carl was still in her arms when Shane…"

"He's keeping watch now," Hershel added, "but I think it's best for all involved that he stays away from her."

* * *

Rick and Daryl headed for the RV.

"Hard t' believe a broad slipped past us…" Daryl said under his breath as he walked beside Rick.

"Yeah, well," Rick said in a mocking tone as he scanned the area for Shane, "she must be something special to do that and get Shane so riled up in the span of an afternoon."

"Takes nothing special to piss that man off," Daryl said with a huff, "to slip past me though…"

Rick laughed and cocked a grin, "What? Jealous that a woman's slipperier than you?"

"Pfft, ain't no such thing, don't kid yourself."

Shane spotted them and climbed down the RV's ladder before handing off the sniper rifle to Glenn.

"Rick, have they told you?"

Rick stopped and looked off at the stables. He didn't trust strangers himself, but this woman had saved his son, which pretty much ruled out any chances of her being trouble. While he understood Shane still being suspicious, he didn't appreciate his reaction.

"The girl saved my son…you put a rifle to her head."

Shane looked stunned, having expected Rick to be entirely on his side.

Daryl took a small step back, not wanting to get involved but willing to if Shane did anything stupid. Lately, stupid and Shane fit together too well, and Daryl wanted less and less to do with him. Especially considering he could tell Shane had already given up Sophia for dead. Fucker deserved to be torn a new one as far as Daryl was concerned.

"For all we know she could have been the one who hurt Carl!"

"She set his ankle, Shane." Rick shook his head in frustration, "And according to what Hershel said she must have kept him awake until the symptoms of his concussion faded."

Shane leaned in close, adamant he was right and flabbergasted Rick was so naïve.

"She could have done that to gain our trust, Rick! Fuck man, why don't you see that?"

"Alright, Shane, maybe she did. Maybe she's just waiting for the chance to gut us. You raised a gun at her while Carl was still in her arms for fuck's sake!"

Shane's lips pursed together and his chest puffed out in anger, "Don't you dare doubt how much a love that boy! I'd do anything –

"He is _my_ son." Rick snapped, "And while I appreciate all you did here while Daryl and I searched for him, do not forget that."

Shane snorted and looked to Daryl, "Please, enlighten me, Daryl, how the hell did she slip past you? She was carrying dead weight, not like she could really sneak past anyone with a brain in their head."

Daryl tensed, "Watch your fuckin' mouth."

Shane stepped past Rick to confront Daryl, his fists clenched at his sides.

"That is assuming there is a brain in that head o' yours."

Daryl lunged forward, fist cocked back and ready to do damage, but Rick was fast enough to get between the two. He pushed Shane back with a strained groan and held back Daryl, a hand splayed across his chest.

"Enough of this! Shane, get back to watch. Daryl and I are going to talk to this girl, see if she is what you claim she is."


	5. First Impressions

**Disclaimer: **"The Walking Dead" and all characters within belong to the brilliant mind that is Robert Kirkman. Characters you do not recognize from the series belong to me. Thank you for all of the lovely reviews and faves! Your support is greatly appreciated!

Just another (short) chapter for you all for today :) I plan on updating again tomorrow though so the wait for something longer shouldn't be too long! – Fallon.

**Chapter Three**

"_The world dies over and over again, but the skeleton always gets up and walks." – Henry Miller_

They saw Andrea standing at outside the stable doors, her arms crossed as she paced back and forth.

She saw them and sighed, "Took your sweet time."

"Figured you could handle yourselves," Rick gestured to the stable, "What do you make of our guest?"

Andrea shrugged, "She's got Maggie wrapped around her finger already."

"Don't trust her?"

"Carl's not exactly awake to confirm her story, is he?"

Rick shook his head, "Not yet, no."

Daryl stepped forward so his voice wouldn't travel. "If ya'll decide she's a danger, I can take care of 'er."

Neither Rick nor Andrea needed clarification.

Rick clasped him on the shoulder, "It won't come to that I'm sure."

"Be careful, Rick." Andrea warned as she walked away, "You can't always believe there's good in people."

When she was gone, Rick sighed and opened the door. Daryl followed close behind, his crossbow drawn.

Emilia was bound to an old wooden chair in the middle of the stables, her wrists tied tight behind her and her ankles secured to the legs of the chair. Maggie was sitting off to the side but appeared deep in conversation with the captive, her elbows resting casually on her knees. Clearly the farmer's daughter wasn't as suspicious as Andrea was.

Maggie noticed them first, "Her knapsack and jacket are on the table over there, figured you'd want a look. Poor Shane will be surprised I found no explosives or plans to slaughter the farm inside."

She moved out of the way and leaned against a vacant stall, giving Emilia an encouraging wink of support.

Rick approached the table and started rifling through its contents though he allowed himself to chuckle at the idea. "He'll be heartbroken, I'm sure."

Daryl stared at the woman.

She was pale, almost like she hadn't seen the sun in years. Her blonde hair was bound in a loose braid that was draped over her shoulder. She wore tight, faded blue jeans and a white tank. When he tried to steal a glance to see what colour her eyes were, he saw that her left eye was foggy and marred by a scar that sliced down her brow and continued down her cheek in a way that made her look like she was crying.

She looked terrified and meek.

He had no idea how someone like her had survived on her own for so long.

* * *

Emilia felt uncomfortable under his gaze, "Does your friend talk or can he just stare?"

Rick looked back at them and smiled, "Daryl? Excuse him, he has no manners." He stepped forward, holding her wallet in his hands and read aloud from her driver's license. "Emilia Faire, twenty-three years old…from Maine."

"You're a long way from home, kid." Daryl commented, having finally found his voice.

"I…wanted to start anew, was going to school in Atlanta when the shit hit the fan."

Rick sat her wallet down and drew his hunting knife.

Emilia flinched and fixed her eyes on the ground, not wanting to look either man in the eye. She wanted to call out for Maggie but her lips wouldn't cooperate.

The last time a man approached her with a drawn knife it hadn't ended well. She clenched her fists as he walked around her, silently preparing herself for the worst, and sighed in relief when instead he carefully cut the rope that bound her wrists.

"I think we can talk civilly, no need for restraints." He moved back around and freed her ankles, "There we go…"

Emilia rubbed her wrists. Maggie hadn't tied the rope too tight, but she was still grateful to be freed.

She risked a glance up at Rick. He had taken the seat Maggie had once held and was watching her keenly. His guard dog was still staring at her from the corner.

Emilia shifted in her seat, "Can…can I ask how Carl is?"

Rick smiled, "He'll live…thanks to you. His mother and I can't thank you enough for bringing him back to us."

Emilia bit her lip and gave a small shrug, brushing off his thanks.

Rick leaned forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees. She might have been a stranger, but he saw nothing in her that gave cause for concern. She was just a scared kid. "How long have you been in the woods?"

"Since the beginning," Emilia winced involuntarily as she recalled it, "I was camping when it happened."

Daryl snorted in amusement and stepped closer to Rick's side, "You always camp alone, kid?"

"Sometimes, just to get away from it all," She nervously glanced back and forth between the two men, "If you don't believe me I can tell you where my camp is."

"There's no need for now," Rick assured her, "Was there anyone with you at any point?"

Emilia shook her head.

"Not even for a few days?"

"No…I made my way down after a week or so, to see what was happening. I…saw the bodies, read what little information the newspapers had. After that I just stayed at my camp, killing…t-those things whenever they got too close. Carl was the first person I'd spoken to since this mess started."

Daryl was surprised; most people would have lost their minds going without human contact for so long. It was clear the girl had her issues, but she obviously wasn't as devious and fucked up as Shane seemed to believe. He could see the scars on her though, despite her best attempts to conceal them. Long gashes down the inside of her arms and another on her top lip, though he guessed there was a lot more. Daryl had had a rough life, he knew the signs.

He didn't care to know her sob story though. If Rick was gonna bring her along with their group all Daryl needed to know was if she could keep up and keep it together. They needed assets not weak links.

Rick gestured as politely as he could to the scar that cut across her eye. "Can you see?"

Emilia tentatively touched her cheekbone before toying with her bangs so they covered that side of her face.

"No…only out of my good eye."

"You killed those walkers though, the ones that were chasing Carl?"

She nodded, "I've adapted."

"Machetes are your choice then?" He pointed to the two lying beside her knapsack on the table.

"Never was good with firearms," Emilia said, "But I can cut through those walkers pretty good with blades."

"Yeah, we saw your handiwork back there in the woods," Daryl said with a nod, "You hacked those sons-o'-bitches apart."

Emilia glanced up at him, the very hint of a smile present on her lips. He certainly looked like a badass, but she could tell he wasn't like the man she'd been greeted by, this Shane person.

"We'll have to get you comfortable with guns though, in case we're ever forced into a tough spot. We'll get someone to teach you."

Both Daryl and Emilia gave Rick a surprised, confused look.

Rick however looked like he was entirely serious.

"You saved my son, therefore you have my trust. Everyone pulls their weight here, so the others will be waiting for you to prove yourself."

The idea appealed to her. Seclusion had its benefits, but it made each day pass agonizingly slow. Maybe with a bit of purpose and company things would look a little brighter.

"Shane –

"Will be told to stay away from you, I promise." Rick said firmly, "You can relax here, we're safe."

* * *

Rick led her out of the stables, allowing her to take her knapsack and a small pocket knife but asking her to trust him with her machetes for now. She agreed because she had no choice, but partially because a small part of her actually believed him.

Daryl walked behind her, his gruff expression unchanging.

When they approached the farmhouse she saw a small group of people gathered on the porch. She felt nervous, sort of like a child on their first day of school. Though she felt silly for worry about if they'd like her or not. So long as they didn't hurt her she'd be fine, even with their dislike.

Rick nodded to the older man Emilia had seen earlier.

"Hershel, do you think Emilia here could use your restroom, clean herself up a bit?"

The man smiled, "Of course, she's more than welcome."

Before Emilia had a chance to say anything, Carl's mother stepped forward, blocking her way forward.

There were unshed tears in her eyes and damp streaks down her cheeks and neck. Her hair was dishevelled, and she looked older than Emilia guessed she was. She could understand the weight stress could put on the body.

"I'm Lori Grimes," she said softly, "Carl's mother. I…I can't thank you enough for what you did for us."

Lori stepped forward and hugged Emilia so tight she couldn't breathe until the woman withdrew.

"You're w-welcome."

Maggie came forward and offered Emilia her hand, "Come, I'll show you to the shower."


	6. Moments of Normalcy

**Disclaimer: **"The Walking Dead" and all characters within belong to the brilliant mind that is Robert Kirkman. Characters you do not recognize from the series belong to me.

As a special note, and just for the record, I do not claim to be an expert in blindness. The way I describe Emilia's blindness is based on an amalgamation of the research I did (while designing her character) into vision loss. I have the utmost respect for those who are visually impaired and I hope that Emilia's ability to survive and function (and kickass!) on her own portrays that.

Sorry this update took a little longer then I said dear readers! I got called in to work and have been working every day since. Thank you for the kind and encouraging reviews, I hope you all continue to enjoy this story. So long as you do, I'll update as often as I can – promise! – Fallon.

**Chapter Four**

"_I went into the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived." – Henry David Thoreau_

Never in her entire life had warm water felt so damn good.

She felt like a snake shedding its skin and the filthy water puddled at her feet was the proof.

Still, Emilia didn't want to waste something so precious and limited herself to only a few seconds of sweet, scolding heat. She took only a small dollop of shampoo from the bottle Maggie had given her despite the fact her long hair required more. Taking as little as possible was something she was used to doing even before the world ended. It helped her stay under the radar, avoid the wrath of whomever was supposed to be taking care of her at the time, and it worked…most of the time at least.

Rising the suds out, she sighed in relief as she scrapped her nails across her scalp, a seemingly simple action she hadn't been able to do while living on her own. By herself, with no one guarding her back, she could only spare a few moments to bathe in a creek or river, never long enough to do more than dunk her head and maybe soak her feet before having to move on.

Reluctantly she turned off the water and stepped out.

Maggie had taken her clothes to be washed; leaving her with a set of her own clothes Emilia prayed would fit her well enough. Where Maggie was tall and slim though, Emilia was a touch shorter and had fuller hips. Thankfully, Maggie had left her lounge pants with a drawstring waistband and a tank that looked like it had some give to it.

She forced a brush through her hair, biting her tongue as she tore through tangles she hadn't noticed, and allowed it to hang damp down her back.

Curious, and being without such luxuries for a long time, Emilia glanced at herself in the mirror after wiping the condensation off with a facecloth. Unfortunately, the scar that dominated the left side of her face and rendered her blind in that eye remained, its ugliness having not diminished since the last time she saw herself in a mirror. Where her right eye was a rich shade of brown, her left was muted in colour and foggy from the scar that transected it.

_No wonder Daryl stared…I look no better than one of those damned walkers, probably confused me for one of them…_

Before the scars she had been a cute kid with the hope of growing up to be a beautiful woman. Now she was a walking mess, nearly every inch of her sporting a scar and each scar containing a unique memory from a miserable life.

Emilia sighed.

She was hopeful that being a part of this group would pan out for her. The apparent leader, Rick, seemed to be a decent sort, only wanting to care for his family and friends. Lori seemed the type she would get along with, and Maggie of course was fantastic. The others she had only seen in passing, though she was sure she'd be introduced to them later.

Shane of course she knew was someone she had to avoid. Too many of the characteristics he displayed reminded her of people from her past; many of them responsible for the scars that mapped her body.

Emilia wasn't entirely sure what to make of Daryl, but he seemed to have already made his mind up about her. During a pause in her conversation with Maggie, she had heard him say he would be willing to "take care of her" if Rick gave the order. It had unsettled her, but Maggie had assured her that wouldn't happen. He wasn't like Shane though, that much she knew.

Shane seemed…hate-filled and cold. Daryl just came off as guarded, very guarded.

Deciding she couldn't put off going downstairs any longer, Emilia inhaled deeply to gather her courage and opened the door.

Maggie was sitting at the top of the stairs and smiled to her when the door opened.

"See, fits you!"

Emilia fiddled with the hem of her tank, "Might have stretched it though…I'm sorry."

Maggie brushed her off with a dismissive wave of her hand, "No harm at all. Come with me; best introduce you to the rest of the gang."

Trusting Maggie to be her guide, Emilia followed her down the stairs to the living room. They went into the kitchen were Emilia saw Lori working with an older, thin woman with short grey hair to prepare dinner.

"This here is Carol." Maggie said as they neared.

Carol turned and looked at her with warm, tender eyes.

"It's good to meet you, Emilia. Lori has told me a lot about you already."

Lori smiled warmly at her.

"It's good to meet you, Carol." Emilia said with a quick smile, "Your cooking smells divine by the way."

Carol approached her, removing her oven mitts as she did so.

"Thank you dear." She fidgeted nervously, "I…I've got to ask you something. My daughter…my Sophia, got lost in the woods. We've been trying to find her but there's been nothing for so long. Lori tells me you've been by yourself up there for a while. By chance…have you seen anything?"

Lori continued drying the dishes, but her worried eyes met Emilia's in a silent plea.

Emilia had seen plenty of walkers during her time in the woods, none of them were children and none of them had been alive until she happened upon Carl.

"Carl was the first child I'd seen, alive or…you know."

Emilia couldn't bring herself to say what it was clear the women feared. It was evident this woman, this mother, was distraught and in emotional agony, mentioning death would only drive the stake deeper into her heart.

"I'm pretty familiar with the woods around here though," Emilia offered, "if Rick's okay with it I'd be more than happy to go out and see if I can find anything."

Carol perked up a bit at her offer, the corners of her lips twitching as a tiny smile full of hope appeared.

"Thank you, Emilia. That'd be most kind of you. Daryl could use the help too; he's been out there every day."

Maggie put her hand on Emilia's shoulder, "I'm off to show her around, we'll see you ladies a bit later."

As they left the farmhouse, Emilia turned to Maggie.

"How long as Sophia been missing?"

Maggie's face was full of dread, "Too long. Rick, Lori and the others have been here going on two weeks; Sophia has been missing about that long."

Emilia felt a worry rise out of the pit of her stomach. She had only survived as long as she had because she had been prepared to be on her own, this little girl hadn't had that luxury.

"What are the chances Rick trusts me enough to let me help find Sophia?"

Maggie shrugged. "I'm not sure; I'm still getting to know these folks myself. He might not have a choice though, so far he's really only had Shane and Daryl helping. Before you got here he was talking about organizing search parties by grid, might be that he'll need a hand."

"So long as I'm not with Shane I'm glad to help." Emilia said with an anxious laugh.

She imagined he wasn't pleased when he learned Rick was letting her stay and she certainly didn't want to end up with a rifle pressed against her head again.

"I know you didn't really get a good first impression of this group, but they aren't all like him. I promise." Maggie assured her with a lighthearted pat on the back. "Daryl and Shane are the only real…prickly ones."

Emilia took the chance to sate her curiosity. "Daryl doesn't seem to like me either."

"I wouldn't take that personally, he's not exactly friendly with anyone. He's been out there on his own a lot though, searching for Sophia. So he's not so bad."

It didn't really ease her curiosity about the man, but as Maggie continued on about the others Emilia's mind remained focused on the gruff man who had offered to kill her before they'd even met.

* * *

That night at dinner Emilia sat between Lori and Maggie at the table. When Carol, Beth and Patricia served, Emilia had to check to make sure she wasn't actually drooling. Before her was placed a fat roasted chicken and more rice and corn then she had seen a long time. It looked delicious and smelled absolutely divine.

Everyone began passing the plates around, but Emilia just sat there unsure of what to do.

"You hungry, Emilia?" Carol asked when she noticed she was the only one with a clean plate.

Emilia nodded.

"Don't be shy, kid." Dale said as he pushed what remained of the chicken down to her. "Best get some before Glenn inhales the whole thing."

Glenn flicked a carrot at the older man.

"Don't waste the food," Carol scolded him, "I laboured over a hot stove to make this!"

Glenn murmured an apology, and the others laughed as his face flared red.

Shane had sat as far away from Emilia as he could, at the far end next to Andrea and Rick. He kept his eyes down, not giving anyone even the slightest glance as he picked at the food on his plate.

Emilia didn't see his gaze rise once, but she didn't need to see his eyes to know he was fuming.

* * *

After every plate was clean and her stomach was full, Emilia helped Carol bring the plates in to the kitchen. Everyone was still laughing in the dining room and she felt that if she tried hard enough she could almost forget that there was an apocalypse just outside the front door.

Maggie had been right too, everyone was very kind and welcoming. T-Dog and Glenn seemed to be able to keep everyone laughing and Dale was clearly the father-figure for most of the group. There was clearly a blanket of worry for Sophia covering them all, but she could tell they were good natured people.

As Emilia piled the dishes next to the sink, Carol was working quickly to put a plate of food together.

She handed it to Emilia, along with a warm bottle of water.

"I'll get started on the dishes, dear. You take this out to Daryl."

Daryl had offered to take first guard duty, but Emilia was surprised he hadn't even grabbed any food before starting. And regardless of her lingering curiosity, Emilia still didn't relish the idea of being alone the man who had so coolly offered to kill her. The look Carol was giving her though was one she couldn't bring herself to say no to, so she accepted the plate and made for the door.

"He'll likely just be on the porch dear, no need to go far."

* * *

Daryl leaned against the railing, his crossbow readied just in case.

It hadn't been his turn to take watch, but he didn't want to be inside while everyone was gushing over their newest addition, so he'd traded with Glenn. Glenn had been eager to trade anyway, wanting to be near the farmer's daughter, so it was a win-win situation.

The night was pleasantly quiet, broken only by the fits of laughter coming from inside the farmhouse. Usually he didn't mind being a part of that, especially if whiskey was involved, but he was certain they'd be asking Emilia to spill her story and he wasn't interested.

She'd be dead in a week anyway, no way someone so docile looking could ever hold her own, and then everything would go back to what they'd all come to understand was "the norm".

He heard someone clear their throat behind him and he glanced over his shoulder.

_Speak of the devil…_

Emilia kept her eyes down, "Carol wanted me to bring this out to you…here."

She extended her arms, offering him the plate and bottle of water Carol had given her.

Daryl didn't move to take them; he just kept staring at her.

She'd cleaned herself up, pretty well if he was being honest with himself. Her long blonde hair was draped over her shoulder and had been cleaned and brushed. It looked thick and he wondered, _just_ for a split second, how it would feel to run his fingers through it. Every trace of dirt and grime had been washed from her and he could tell that despite the scar that marred the left side of her face she really did have lovely, soft looking skin. The tank top she wore was tight and drew even more focus to her rather full bust. He found himself wondering just how soft she'd feel when Emilia shifted nervously on her feet and pulled him out of his daze.

Inwardly he scolded himself for his lack of discretion.

_Good job, Dixon…world goes to shit and ya' start eyeing up little girls…_

Daryl stammered a quick thanks and accepted the food, fully expecting her to run away as soon as she had the chance. Much to his surprise she remained, though she still looked like she expected him to physically lash out at her at any second.

"Carol told me about Sophia –

"What 'bout her?"

Emilia took a small step back to give herself more room, startled by the abruptness of his response.

"If you and Rick are okay with it I'd like to help look for her," Emilia gave a little shrug, "I know the woods around here well enough; I wouldn't get in anyone's way."

"Rick might need your help, I don't." Daryl said without hesitation, certain he didn't want her tagging along with him. "I work better on my own."

He was surprised to see a small, brief smile on her lips.

_Good lord, those lips…_

It was dark out, with only the light from inside pushing aside some of the dark, but he didn't need the sun to see that she had the most enticing lush, pouty lips he'd ever seen on a woman.

_Hot damn…_

He wondered why he hadn't noticed before in the stables. All she had done was shower, but it wasn't like she was caked in mud before or nothing.

"Carol told me you've been out there on your own most days."

He shrugged and cracked open the bottle of water, "Somebody's got ta be out there and if you haven't noticed it quite yet people here are all talk no action."

Emilia glanced back at the window, seeing the silhouettes of the others walking around the dining room. They had all been kind to her over dinner, not one person asking or hinting about her scars or inquiring about her life before the world went to hell. She wasn't naive, she knew they could tell she had her issues but that they didn't swarm her or demand answers was...refreshing. Their sensitivity to that was something she appreciated and had never before experienced.

"They don't seem so bad…"

Daryl huffed and chugged back half of the bottle.

"I mean…you all seem to get along real well."

He laughed, "Half of us were ready to kill ya' not a day ago, don't be so fucking blind, kid."

Emilia felt like the air had been sucked from her lungs. And though it was only the two of them, she felt as though a thousand eyes were on her.

Before he could correct himself, Emilia had already tensed up and was biting her lip.

Daryl was hit with a sudden wave of regret and he reached out to touch her arm, unsure exactly what possessed him to do so.

She pivoted quickly on her heels and retreated back into the farmhouse without another word, leaving him alone on the porch.


	7. Damn Good People

**Disclaimer: **"The Walking Dead" and all characters within belong to the brilliant mind that is Robert Kirkman. Characters you do not recognize from the series belong to me.

I wholeheartedly suggest taking a look at the stories of WinterIsComing1015! Her amazing stories gave me the push to finally work on this story, which was an idea I had been mulling over for some time. Honestly, no one can write Daryl like she can – so check "Stirrings" out! :)

I'm trying to gradually draw Emilia out of her shell and reveal her backstory, which a number of you have expressed interest in. Let's just say she is probably the most traumatized character I've ever written so I'm trying to take my time and do this carefully.

Very sorry for the delay in getting this up, dear readers! This really was long overdue. The holidays gave me surprisingly little time to do much in the way of writing and I just got back to school this week. Also, thank you to NoirChick, Mafsarhet, loveorpain, marianasgirl and everyone else who has reviewed and been waiting patiently for this update! – Fallon.

**Chapter Five**

"_Sometimes the heart sees what is invisible to the eye." – H. Jackson Brown, Jr._

Emilia awoke in a cold sweat, her heart pounding like a war drum in her chest. She had the dream again, the same one she had been having every night since she was a young girl. Some nights were worse than others, but lately the details had been near crystal clear, the sensation of steel slicing down her face as vivid as it had been so many years ago.

_His breath was hot against her neck, vile and putrid enough to sink into her pores and to her very soul. She fought hard against him, kicking and punching with fury, but it was useless; all she was accomplishing was angering him more. His hands pawed at her body and she felt bile rise in her throat. Fabric ripped and she screamed as flesh met flesh…_

She shook off the disturbing shiver that snaked its way down her spine and sat on the edge of the couch to slip her boots on. Maggie had left her clothes clean and folded on the coffee table and, scanning the room to make sure she was alone, quickly changed into them.

Hershel had been kind enough to let her bunk on the couch in the living room but Emilia was hoping they'd find a tent for her soon so she could be as little a bother as possible.

The sun was just beginning to rise but when she stepped out onto the porch she saw that nearly everyone in the group appeared to be awake. They sat in a circle of lawn chairs around a small fire eating breakfast in relative silence. Nerves fluttered in her stomach at the idea of approaching them, but she needed to speak to Rick if she wanted to help look for Sophia and that was where he was. T-Dog, Andrea and Glenn were listening to Dale as he gestured in frustration at the RV. Lori she suspected was back in the farmhouse with Carl, and Daryl was nowhere in sight.

She still wasn't sure what to make of his comment the night before. He certainly seemed surprised that she had turned and left, maybe even apologetic, but she was glad she didn't have to face him just yet.

Shane was leaning against a nearby tree watching the others, his gaze intense but zeroed in on no one in particular, and Emilia forced herself to ignore him and focus instead on friendlier faces.

Carol spotted her approaching and gave a small smile and patted the spot next to her.

"Did you sleep well?" She asked as Emilia settled down next to her.

Emilia nodded, "First time I've felt safe in a while, thank you."

"This place is the closest thing to normal we've come across," Carol said softly, "There was one place we stayed at for a while, a quarry by Atlanta, but…" She glanced over at Andrea and fell silent.

Emilia followed her gaze and saw that Andrea had stiffened and fallen silent. Strands of hair had fallen across her face but Emilia knew sorrow well enough to notice it regardless.

T-Dog stepped in for her, "We got swarmed by walkers…lost some damn good people."

"My sister…" Andrea said in a shaky whisper before turning back to her meal.

"Jim too," Glenn added, "Damn good people…"

T-Dog mumbled in agreement.

Emilia felt Carol's hand fold over her own and she turned to face her. Carol had kind, wise eyes. She could see it inside her, overwhelming strength and a kind heart. It had to have been what kept her going for so long without a sign of her daughter.

"Do you know what happened to your family?" Carol asked cautiously, "Are they in Maine?"

Emilia could feel the others looking at her, but she didn't feel nearly as anxious as she thought she would. She didn't feel like she was being backed into a cornered and she saw in all of them no sick curiosity or callousness.

_They just want to get to know you;_ she assured herself, _nothing wrong with that._

"They died years before this…plague started," Emilia gave a small dismissive shrug; "I guess I'm lucky they didn't have to see any of this."

"You are." Andrea said as she raised her sad eyes to meet Emilia's.

Mutual understanding passed between them.

Andrea's wounds were still fresh, Emilia knew the feeling. While her own were still far from being healed, she had been able to hide that part of her away when she started school. She couldn't hide the scar that blinded her but everything else she had bottled away deep inside of herself. She had been determined that Atlanta would be a fresh start, free of past demons.

But then the dead started rising, bringing with them every horrible detail she had buried.

A deep familiar voice pulled her from her thoughts and she noticed that Daryl had appeared and was speaking with Rick. He had knelt next to the group's leader and opened a tattered map.

"We haven't checked there yet," he said as he pointed out the spot to Rick, "I'm gonna check it out myself, see if there's any sign of her."

Rick considered it for a moment, "It's not safe for you to go by yourself, too far from the farm if something goes wrong."

Daryl frowned; "It's better that way."

Emilia had wanted that same sort of seclusion not more than twenty-four hours ago. She didn't see herself leaving her camp in the woods and she certainly never saw herself joining up with a group let alone being welcomed with such open arms. But Daryl's skills seemed respected and his contributions appreciated, at least by Rick. Maybe there was something she wasn't seeing? She was new after all, and after everything the group had been through there had to be some stressors laying just under the surface.

She recalled what Rick had told her about proving herself capable to the group and forced herself to stand, her knees only slightly shaky.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" She asked as the silence around them lingered.

Rick and Daryl looked up at her, as did the rest of the group.

Emilia felt Carol squeeze her hand.

"I know the woods pretty well," she explained, swallowing the lump in her throat awkwardly, "I know where all the good spots to hide are."

Daryl looked at her as if she had grown a second head.

Rick seemed to be rolling her suggestion over in his head but she couldn't meet his eyes so she wasn't entirely sure.

"She's got a good point," Dale said with an uneasy tone as he brushed the sweat from his brow with his hat, "We need all the help we can get."

"Speak for yourself," Daryl snapped, his gaze still not meeting Emilia's, "I got this covered."

"The more people you got the better though…right?" Carol pleaded softly, desperation evident in her eyes.

"The kid's held her own till now without any help, I'm sure she won't weigh you down out there." Dale said with a wink of support to Emilia.

She smiled back at him, truly thankful for his vote of confidence.

"They're right," Rick said finally, "we need to get out there and do a good, thorough sweep. Emilia knows the area Daryl, she'll go with you."

Daryl grumbled, "And you?"

Rick nodded to Shane, who up until this point had remained strangely and uncharacteristically silent.

"We'll head out together, go west while you and Emilia go east to check out that clearing you're wondering about. T, Andrea and Glenn can patrol the perimeter of the farm while we're gone, Dale can take point up on the RV."

"And what about me?" Carol asked, tears falling lazily down her dirty cheeks.

Daryl gave the woman a quick glance then turned his focus to his crossbow, "Sit tight and be here when we bring 'er home."

Emilia saw Carol's face light up and she had to admit even she found Daryl's confidence uplifting. She scanned the group and saw that very few seemed to share his hope.

Sophia had been missing for a long time and she was just a kid, trapped in a nightmare that terrified those thrice her age.

More than anything Emilia wanted to find her alive, but she knew in the back of her head the chances of that happening were slim. Hell, half the time she didn't know how she made it on her own in the woods for so long!

Still, she felt she owed it to the group to help.

Especially Carol.

The pain radiating off the fragile mother was nearly unbearable.

Emilia brushed her hands off on her jeans, inwardly hoping that her nerves weren't as obvious as they felt. "Let's go then."

Daryl looked her up and down, "What you gonna hit them with?"

"I'll need my machetes," Emilia said calmly, looking to Rick, "guns aren't my thing."

"We'll need silence on our side too," Rick said in agreement as he started toward the RV where he had stashed her weapons.

Shane pushed himself off the tree and stepped into the circle. He glared at Emilia, and then looked back to Rick.

"How do we know she ain't gonna try to get the jump on Daryl when they're out there? None of us know what she's capable of. Ya'll are fools to be trusting so easily."

Emilia couldn't help it, despite her fear of the man she snorted in amusement.

Glenn laughed as well, "Emilia? Her?" He turned to her, "Soaking wet you'd be…what? Hundred and thirty tops?"

The end of the world made for few options as far as food was concerned. She had lost weight since it all began, but she figured it was a fair estimate.

"And we got to see what the girl can do sooner or later," T-Dog added with a shrug, not seeing why Shane was so riled up. "I vote sooner rather than later."

Rick clasped Shane on the shoulder in an attempt to defuse the situation, "Daryl's got it, Shane."

Daryl gave a cocky smirk, "Thanks for the concern, but if the kid gives me trouble I can handle 'er."

Shane shook his head in disbelief, "I'm serious, both of you. Since when do we trust strangers?"

"We trust Hershel and his family." Glenn pointed out, "At least I do."

"We all do," Rick assured him, "Hershel saved Carl when he could have turned us away. Emilia brought Carl home when she could have left him where he fell. You heard her, Shane; she's been living in the woods this entire time. If she really wanted to hurt Hershel's family or our group she's likely already had a million opportunities."

Emilia shifted uncomfortably on her feet. She felt like they had forgotten she was standing right there and she was listening in on their conversation.

"I-I offered to help, I want to." She forced herself to make eye contact with Rick, "I don't want to hurt anyone…"

Shane huffed and shot Rick a nasty look before stomping away from the campfire toward the tents on the other side of the RV.

With him gone the tension left the air and everyone visibly relaxed.

Rick approached her and placed his hand on her shoulder. He felt her jump and tense at the contact and quickly withdrew his hand.

"Emilia," he spoke calmly, "I trust you with this."

He turned and headed to get her weapons before she could formulate a response. The others left too, all of them having numerous chores to help with on the property. Glenn and Dale passed her, both offering her grins of encouragement as they went about their business.

"I'll go get some things together for the two of you, water and such," Carol offered as she sniffled and wiped away tears, heading back to the farmhouse at a brisk pace.

Emilia was watching Carol retreat when Daryl approached her, his crossbow resting casually against his shoulder.

"You actually half decent with those blades?"

She glanced at him out of the corner of her good eye. Years of fear had kept her from really looking at a man, but with the sun up and giving her the light she lacked the previous night, she found herself unable to resist giving him a second glance.

A glistening sheen of sweat covered his tanned arms, calling her eyes to muscles she hadn't noticed before. The top buttons of his sleeveless shirt had been left open and she could see the strength in his core that was balanced by broad shoulders. Grime and sweat covered his face, but did nothing to dull the vibrancy of his clear blue eyes.

_He's…wow…_

Daryl furrowed his brow, "You always stare?"

She nervously scratched her head, brushing strands of her hair forward to hide the blush she knew was spreading across her cheeks.

"S-Sorry…lost in thought."

"Hmm, well whatever then; you good with those blades? Don't want you freaking and hitting me instead of walkers with those damn things."

"I won't," she assured him with more confidence then she truly possessed, "where is it you want to check out?"

"There's a clearin' to the east of here. I spoke to Hershel; he said there used to be a farm in that area, people haven't lived there in a long ass time though. I figure Sophia might be hidin' in whatever's left of the house, hunkering down waiting for help."

Emilia hoped he was right.

* * *

She followed Daryl in silence, her head on a pivot to ensure they weren't taken by surprise.

Her hand hovered over the leather bound handle of one of her machetes she had strapped to her hip. Whenever she thought she heard something she'd brush her fingers over the tattered, weather worn leather, but so far it hadn't been anything more than rabbits or squirrels scurrying out of their way.

Not all had made it of course, Daryl had a few squirrels that had proven slower bound together and slung over his shoulder.

The silence wasn't too uncomfortable. Daryl kept his eyes down, examining the small paths that snaked through the underbrush for any signs of the missing girl. He paused every few moments to take a closer look at a rock or exposed root, but never lingered or second guessed his initial interpretation of the tracks.

In the time she had spent alone in the woods, Emilia had picked up one or two things about tracking, enough to maybe come across a woodchuck if she was lucky. But Daryl, he was of an entirely different calibre. There was no panic in his movements and yet he seemed to be taking in everything he saw at once with slow, precise movements.

He was in his element, a bloodhound caught on the lingering scent of an elusive prey.

"You gonna tell me how you survived out here?"

His voice breaking the silence made her jump slightly, and she was thankful she was following him instead of the other way around.

"I-I told you, back in the stable."

Daryl gave a grunt and shrugged, "Just wonderin' how somethin' so jumpy could have held its own out here for so damn long."

Emilia nibbled the inside of her cheek nervously until she felt a faint tang of blood on her tongue. Luck sure played a big role in her survival. There hadn't been many people camping when the world went to hell, so it took a while for the walkers to wander in in search of food. When that happened it was the deer and other wildlife that had been targeted first. Then there was her learned tendency to avoid people in general. Dead or alive, history told her to be wary of those who tried to get close. The mere fact that she had remained so calm during her stay at the farm so far was shocking.

"It took a while for the walkers to head up this way; I hardly bumped into any until two or three months ago."

Daryl nodded but kept his attention focused ahead of him, "Makes sense. Not as much fresh food out on the highway."

"Were the roads really that bad?" She asked, even though she already suspected the answer. She had seen a bit about it in the papers before things went silent. Mass panic had made people flock to the highways, and that sort of chaos had a way of making things turn ugly if there was no one there to reel it in.

He swore under his breath and abruptly glanced back at her over his shoulder. "Did ye really not go down and take a look for yourself?"

He didn't allow her a chance to respond.

"It's a fucking graveyard," he noticed that she had her fingers wrapped around the handle of her machete and snorted, "Thinkin' of using that, kid? It'd be a fool move, and your last."

She took a few steps back, her instincts screaming at her to put distance between herself and the hunter before her.

"I'm not sure if I can trust you," she admitted albeit in a timid, hesitant voice, "you were volunteering to kill me before you even met me."

Daryl looked at her curiously and upon remembering his talk with Rick outside the barn, became utterly flabbergasted a person like her had managed for so long on her own.

If nothing it fueled his hope that Sophia was still alive and kicking.

"Ye heard that and ye still followed me out here?" He looked her up and down and shook his head in disbelief.

"No," Emilia said with more force than she believed she possessed, "I followed you out here to help find Sophia, to help the group. I figured you wanted to find her too, more than you'd want to try to kill me."

Regardless of what he felt, Emilia knew the group was made up of damn good people. She'd seen enough to know that they all genuinely cared for one another, interacted like a family. Shane was the rotten one of the bunch, but his type she was used to. It was this caring, loyal and seemingly devoted group of people that was new and alien to her.

And she didn't want to let that go.

"I'm out here for Carol," she said softly, having noticed his angry expression fall.

He stood there, staring at her in silence. She hoped what she had said was sinking in, that maybe he could tell she was being honest with him, because she really didn't have a back-up plan.

He finally gave a frustrated sigh, "Fuck it - come on then. Just don't make me regret this, kid. Clearing ain't too far away now; I need you watching my back."

* * *

Emilia hunkered down in the shrubs beside Daryl, the dilapidated farm house within their sights. It looked like it had two levels, though it was likely there was a cellar as well. Nearly all of the paint had been worn from the shutters and panels of siding hung off and flapped against the house in the breeze, causing a clanking noise that had her worried. There were more walkers in the woods than ever before, any noise was dangerous. The screen was torn on the sunroom and the door hung from its hinges, barely blocking the way in. Windows low to the ground had no glass, shutters or boards up.

All in all, it wasn't exactly a secure place to hunker down.

Daryl seemed to agree with her worries about the sad state of the house. "It's got a roof at least."

Emilia saw gaps were shingles had fallen off and exposed the structure of the old building to the elements.

_Not sure for how much longer though…_

"She might have stayed here for a bit, would have had to move on though."

Daryl nodded in agreement, "Shelter but little chance of food in there."

Emilia's thoughts exactly.

"Did she know how to hunt?"

She saw a glimmer of sadness cross his features at her question and it hit her just how badly he wanted to find her.

"Never had the chance, been running since Atlanta."

His regret was evident enough and she felt maybe some of his anger came from that.

_Maybe,_ she told herself, _or maybe he's just an ass._

Even as she told herself that though she knew it wasn't the truth, people were always more complicated than that. She just couldn't figure out why she cared enough to want to know the answer for Daryl.

She freed one of her machetes from the clasps on her belt, "Let's get in there then."


	8. What Binds Us

**Disclaimer: **"The Walking Dead" and all characters within belong to the brilliant mind that is Robert Kirkman. Characters you do not recognize from the series belong to me.

*****Warning: **This chapter earns the M rating for gore – just a heads up!

I wholeheartedly suggest taking a look at the stories of WinterIsComing1015! Her amazing stories gave me the push to finally work on this story, which was an idea I had been mulling over for some time. Honestly, no one can write Daryl like she can – so check out "Stirrings" & "The Cherokee Rose that Bloomed for Him"! :)

I'm trying to gradually draw Emilia out of her shell and reveal her backstory, which a number of you have expressed interest in. Let's just say she is probably the most traumatized character I've ever written so I'm trying to take my time and do this carefully.

I'm thrilled you all seem to be enjoying this story so far! All reviews are greatly appreciated! – Fallon.

**Chapter Six**

"_What the caterpillar calls the end of the world the master calls a butterfly." – Richard Bach_

"_Poetry is a naked woman, a naked man, and the distance between them." – Lawrence Ferlinghetti_

Emilia was on her guard as she followed Daryl into the old farmhouse, cringing as the door creaked open and exhaling only when the high pitched sound stopped. The noise seemed to put Daryl on guard too, as he stopped and gave a slow scan around them.

Emilia took a brief moment to close her eyes and blocked out everything expect the lingering remnants of that sound. She could hear it fading into the distance and listened carefully for the rising of any new sounds that would indicate danger.

Outside, a gust of wind shook the house and filtered inside through cracks in the structure of the building. The wood beams strained against the force as it worked to bend with the wind and soft whistles filled her head and echoed throughout the halls of the home.

She could hear Daryl's breathing from somewhere close in front of her, somewhat labored by the combination of the Georgia heat and their run to the front door.

There was nothing, no shuffled footsteps or scrapping of nails she commonly associated with the walkers. She opened her eyes and saw that Daryl was staring at her with a veil of utter confusion plastered on his face.

She gave him a nod, tapping her ear with her finger as she did so he'd understand, and continued further down the hallway.

The inside looked just as horrible as the outside.

With dusty old sheets and plastic covering furniture older than she was, Emilia felt like she had stepped back in time. Mirrors and black and white family photos hung askew on the walls upon which floral wallpaper pealed like the skin of a banana. Water damage coming from the floor above them left large patches of mold on the walls and large, yellowy pools of water on the ground. Emilia wondered for a moment why the water was such an unnatural colour, then thought it best she not dwell on the subject.

"Looks like we're the first to be here in a long time," she whispered as she took a small step closer to him, "The dust doesn't seem disturbed."

Daryl's features soured, "Don't mean she wasn't here for a little while. Stay sharp."

She tightened her grasp on her trusted machete and spread out, taking one side of the room while Daryl took the other. Emilia used the tip of her blade to lift the sheets covering chairs and couches, but saw no sign that anyone had once huddled underneath them.

Each time she disturbed a sheet dust was thrown up in the air and she crinkled her nose to keep from sneezing.

_That's the last thing we need,_ she remarked inwardly, _a poorly timed sneeze drawing a damned walker on us._

Past the seating area was a wall of bookshelves that held old framed photos and other mementoes. She crept closer, careful to step softly to avoid any unnecessary noise, and saw pins and small figures from different cities; souvenirs from family vacations taken in another life. The couple in the pictures were smiling and holding onto each other lovingly, as if nothing else in the world mattered. Next to the vacation photos were coloured ones of the same couple holding a newborn and then, a few photos down, holding what Emilia suspected was their grandchild. The woman had well cared for grey curly hair and wore a floral dress with delicate white gloves and strands of pearls around her wrists. The man was bigger but dressed casually, his thumbs hooked under his suspenders as he gazed down lovingly at the child.

She suddenly felt like she was violating their memories, intruding where she wasn't welcomed. And if life had taught her anything, it was to know when you weren't wanted.

Daryl's voice broke the silence.

"Anythin'?"

She glanced back at him, startled by the hopeful and yet desperate tone in his voice. He had his back turned to her as he searched through the debris on his side of the room. She took the opportunity to just look at him, hoping to maybe see something that would explain why he was so…conflicted.

_How could someone so cold be trying so hard to save a little girl?_

There wasn't much she knew about him, but if one thing was irrefutable it was that he needed to find that girl just as much as Carol needed her found.

"Let's check the kitchen," Emilia suggested in a whisper as she headed back to the hallway, "if she came by here she'd probably look for food first."

Daryl followed her at a distance, not saying a word, his crossbow raised. He let out a silent breath and tried to relax his muscles despite the tension of the moment. The door at the end of the hallway was cracked open by just an inch, letting in a sliver of sunlight that cut through the relatively dark, narrow hallway and hit Emilia's feet.

Emilia couldn't hear anything coming from beyond the door, no gentle whistling wind or pained groans, but that concerned her nonetheless.

To make up for the blindness in her one eye, her hearing had adapted, improving so as to make up for the restriction with her sight. During her time in the woods her acute hearing had saved her on more than one occasion, allowing her to narrow down the source of a sound in an environment that could at best be disorienting.

Until now she hadn't believed there was such a thing as complete silence.

A shiver crawled over her skin, the Georgia heat doing nothing to halt it.

Throwing a cautionary glance back to Daryl, Emilia drew her second machete and touched it gently to the door. Then slowly, ever so slowly, Emilia eased it open.

The smell of rotten flesh hit them in a wave, calling bile to the back of their throats and making their eyes water and burn.

Daryl quickly buried his nose in the crook of his arm, taking a few deep breaths to steady himself before regaining his composure. It was a habit he had learned early on in the apocalypse and one he thought he had moved past. But this stench was worse than anything he'd come across in a long time, either in hunting deer or hunting walkers. The heat gave the smell a weight that he felt on every inch of his body.

He turned his gaze back to Emilia. She was holding her breath, her nose crinkled as she tried to will herself not to heave.

Daryl stepped past her and into the kitchen, lowering his crossbow once he saw what was inside.

He gave a short sarcastic laugh, "Pleasant, ain't it."

Emilia, still holding her breath, could only nod.

"Trick is to try to think of something that is," he offered, his voice still heavy with amusement, "like flowers…or some other bullshit."

Emilia took a few tentative steps into the kitchen having judged from Daryl's casual stance there was nothing "alive" inside.

"I'd take bullshit over this any day," she said in one quick breath, "sweet Lord that is foul!"

Daryl laughed, "Never been 'round fresh ones? Huh, I bet the damn ceiling fell in on her."

That's when Emilia registered exactly what the source of the rank odor was.

Lying in a heap of thickened blood and drying guts was the woman she had seen in the photographs back in the living room. The woman's grey curly hair was matted with blood and brains, the result of what looked like a severe blow to the head. Her lips were missing, having most likely been chewed off in her own frenzied hunger, and her teeth were so jagged it made Emilia think of a shark. Her eyes were sunken but remained staring blankly up at the ceiling. Something had torn open her stomach, effectively gutting her from neck to navel. And everything that had once been inside her wasn't.

Emilia turned away as quickly as she could manage; hoping the sight of the woman hadn't burned itself into her mind.

Daryl gestured to the cupboards with his crossbow, "Ain't nothin' here."

"This place was looted a long time ago…" Emilia said by way of agreement.

Daryl paced back and forth, fuming and cursing under his breath, only to take three big steps forward and kick the side of the creaky old counter, shattering the rotten wood. Emilia jumped and quickly shot him a glare, hoping he'd gather just how stupid she thought he was for making so much noise.

He looked at her, his face twisted in anger but his eyes bare and pleading.

"She was supposed to be here." He snarled as quietly as his anger and obvious pain would let him, "Why the fuck –

He was silenced by a sickening thump and sounds of dragging coming from upstairs. Emilia and Daryl looked at each other, and when it happened again both crouched down low.

"What the fuck?" Daryl hissed under his breath.

Again the encumbered shuffle sounded.

Emilia's eyes opened wide in realization and Daryl noticed.

"What?"

"The pictures…in the living room, I recognize this woman from them. And she had a husband…"

Thump, drag, thump, drag…

"Damn sneaky bastard…" Daryl mused after his frustration faded to the background, "Probably hungry after makin' a meal of his wife."

"He's a big one, Daryl." Emilia warned softly, "Saw the pictures."

She knew they were better off just sneaking back out the way they came. One walker wasn't worth the risk, especially considering it hadn't seen them yet. But she knew Daryl wanted to check the entire house, so she kept her mouth shut.

"Then we do this fast," he hissed, "bolt between the eyes should do the trick…"

Daryl bit his lip in concentration as he checked that the arrow was still properly loaded in his crossbow. Satisfied that it was, he looked to Emilia and smiled when he noticed she already had both her machetes raised and readied.

"Let's get this done."

She was first to step into the hallway. Backtracking on the path they had already taken, she came to the foot of the stairs. The staircase looked no sounder structurally then the rest of the house, each step being covered in a thin layer of moss and rot. She took each step one at a time, slowly, comforted only by the fact that, even though she thought it was stupid, she wasn't doing it alone.

Once they reached the landing the choice of where to go from there was made for them, as debris from the ceiling and attic, including large beams, blocked the paths to all but two doors.

Daryl made to step out in front of her, but she held out her arm to keep him back. He looked at her in confusion, but she just pressed a finger to her lips, effectively shushing him.

The unnerving silence she had experienced before entering the kitchen was gone. Now there was wind and the rustle of leaves, the ever so faint song of birds and the thump and shuffle they had heard before. Only this time it was considerably closer.

Emilia pointed to the right and Daryl took a slow step toward the door she had indicated, shooting her one last questioning look before reaching out and turning the door knob.

It had only opened no more than an inch when there was resistance and Emilia calmly stepped forward and kicked it open the rest of the way. Debris scrapped across the ground but over it she could hear a distinct low, pitiful groan.

Standing in the middle of the room was the husband, still clad in casual clothes and suspenders but devoid a large portion of his neck. On the ground next to him was half a woman. She looked like she had been young, mid-thirties at her latest, and was more than likely the older couple's daughter. Her lower half was on the other side of the room and was being picked clean by a small child who just happened to be missing an arm.

Daryl fired a bolt into the man's head and he went down hard, drawing the attention of the child.

_Their grandchild…_

He was very young, four maybe, and had the same dark hair as the woman he was currently feasting on. His eyes were wide and foggy, but Emilia knew he saw her. What she could only describe as an excited, startled growl escaped his throat and she took an instinctual step back.

_My God we're going to have to put him down, _she thought in a panic to herself.

He was dead but a part of her saw what he had been as he stood before her. He'd probably just started school, just started to make friends, when fate came around and decided it was his time. Staring into his dead eyes, she wondered what his name was, what all of their names were.

Daryl stood next to her, just as awestruck by the scene as she was. He'd never seen a walker so young.

The woman finally noticed their presence and was trying to crawl towards them. Strands of intestine trailed behind her, leaving a vile gory path. She reached for them as if to beg for their help, though only a strained moan left her gnarled mouth.

Silently, Daryl walked over to the woman, an arrow already prepared for her.

Emilia looked to the boy, who was trying to make his way toward her but was hindered by an obviously shattered ankle. His eyes showed no signs of life and yet Emilia saw a pain there that made her heart tighten and her stomach churn.

She wondered silently to herself why he had been bitten and she hadn't. He seemed to come from a decent enough family, one at least who cared enough for him to place his picture around their house, and yet he'd died in the end. Emilia had no one to miss her if she were to die. Would the world not miss him?

A twang sounded from behind her and the poor woman stopped crawling, stopped groaning, stopped suffering.

Emilia inhaled deeply and approached the boy, machete raised.

_I'm so sorry…_

* * *

Emilia sat in silence on the porch, her gaze focused on the fields before her which had been covered in darkness. They'd been back for a few hours now, but she still couldn't shake the image of that boy from her mind. What made the entire thing more painful was that they hadn't found any sign of Sophia.

"Emilia?"

She looked up and saw Carol closing the screen door behind her. She had been devastated when they'd returned with nothing but had thanked everyone for trying so hard.

Neither Emilia nor Daryl told anyone about the family they'd put down in the farmhouse.

"Are you alright, dear?"

Emilia shrugged, "I just wish we'd had better luck."

Carol pulled up a seat next to her, "Sophia's alive, and I know it. You and the others will find her, you will."

The mother's lingering confidence fueled her own.

"I look forward to meeting her."

Carol gave a smile that was overflowing with pride. "She's a quiet girl, with a gentle heart. Strong too…"

Emilia smirked, "Like her mother, I'd guess."

Carol seemed to be caught in pleasant memories for a moment, but then nodded and returned to the present. "There's something I'd like to say, I don't want to offend…I just feel like you should know."

Emilia tensed but one look at Carol made her realize the woman already knew and understood a great deal about her.

Carol seemed to be thinking very carefully about what she was going to say, wringing her hands nervously on her lap. But when she looked up there was compassion evident in her eyes.

"I know…I know someone really bad gave you those scars you try to hide. My husband wasn't a good man… God rest his soul." She pulled down the shoulder of her shirt and showed Emilia a star shaped scar under her bra strap that had long since healed but looked like it had once been a quite severe injury.

Emilia swallowed hard, "One of my foster fathers blinded me…attacked me with a hunting knife."

"Foster?"

Emilia bit her lip to keep it from trembling and looked back out across the field, "My…my parents died in a car accident when I was a kid. We had just left a restaurant…a drunk driver hit our car. I had no other family, so I went into the child care system…spent six years there."

Carol slowly reached out and placed her hand on top of Emilia's. "You're not there anymore though, dear."

The kindness in Carol's voice hit her hard and despite her best efforts Emilia felt her chin tremble.

"No," she said finally with a relieved sigh, "I signed myself out at sixteen and never looked back. It's the one thing I my life I've never regretted."

* * *

Daryl stayed still just inside the door. He had been heading out to relieve Emilia from watch so she could get some dinner when he'd heard her talking with Carol. Something he could only describe as curiosity got the better of him and he had stepped to the side, his back pressed against the wall, so they wouldn't see him.

He'd seen the horrified look on her face when she had been forced to put the little boy down. On their hike back to Hershel's farm she'd said nothing and he didn't try to pry. He had wanted to though, which was enough to shake him. And hearing now that an attack had taken her sight…it pissed him off, boiled his blood.

_I don't even know this kid, _he reminded himself stubbornly, _her fucked up past ain't my problem._

Distance was what he kept telling himself he needed; distance from the group he knew was starting to fracture. Everything he knew, all of the survival skills he'd picked up over the years, told him it was the right thing to do.

_Ain't no point in getting close…never ends well…_

But there was something, maybe the look on Emilia's face when she killed that boy or the soft curve of her lips, that told him this was different. _She_ was different.

Grumbling inwardly to himself, he continued to listen.

* * *

"Carol…what's Daryl's deal?" Emilia asked quietly, "I mean…I just really don't get him."

She knew she was the last person to be questioning the events that led to someone being fucked up, but she felt safe asking Carol.

Carol leaned forward in her seat, resting her elbows on her knees. "He's just like you and me I guess…just a bit grouchier though."

Emilia knew herself, even if who she was wasn't entirely pretty. Coming from Carol, it made sense that Daryl might have gone through similar hell in his life. She gave a forced chuckle, "Are you sure the group can handle the three of us wrecks?"

Carol shrugged, but a small smile remained on her thin lips. "Wrecks or not, we've gotten this far. Maybe they need us."

Suddenly the screen door opened and Emilia's gaze shot back instantly, only to lock with Daryl's.

"Came here to relieve ya'," he explained quickly, "go inside and get somethin' to eat before Glenn gets it all."

Carol gave him a friendly smile and went inside first, leaving Emilia alone with him on the porch.

Emilia stood, placing the binoculars down on the seat and made to follow Carol. He was standing by the door, arms crossed and eyeing her strangely, and when she neared him she muttered timid thanks and hoped that'd be sufficient.

He stopped her though, reaching his arm across the doorway to block her from leaving.

Her eyes followed his arm up to his shoulder and onward to his chest before slowly rising to his face. Surprisingly enough she saw anxiety in his striking blue eyes, the same thing she felt coursing through her entire body.

Unfortunately for her, that wasn't the only thing.

It was his arms, so strong and so close to her, that made her knees weak. She knew she should be terrified, feel trapped and surrounded, but the softness of his features told her she wasn't in danger. Emilia was close enough to smell the sweat and the earthy aroma that clung to him. She liked it – a lot.

He spoke in a hushed, hesitant voice, "I'm real sorry that happened to you…"

Emilia gave a few deliberate blinks, certain what she was seeing and what she had heard was nothing more than a mirage.

But he didn't vanish and neither did the softness in his eyes.

"D-Daryl…"

From inside the farmhouse Carol called for her, warning her that Glenn was eyeing her plate and that Dale could only keep fend him off for so long.

Emilia tore her gaze away from Daryl long enough to glance into the house, but looked back to Daryl when he lowered his arm.

"Better get in there," he advised, a hint a smile on his lips, "I wasn't lying when I saw Glenn'd eat your share."

Emilia swallowed hard and nodded, "Um…thank you."

Daryl gave a curt nod and she quickly retreated back into the farmhouse, hoping having a real meal in her would be the fuel she needed to figure out what the hell just happened.


	9. Hot-Shot

**Disclaimer: **"The Walking Dead" and all characters within belong to the brilliant mind that is Robert Kirkman. Characters you do not recognize from the series belong to me.

I am terribly sorry this update has taken so long! The demands of school and work coupled with an injury at the end of January left me unable to come up with anything of real quality. As of now exams are about to start, but I am nearly done school and should be able to get back to writing!

All reviews are greatly appreciated! – Fallon.

**Chapter Seven**

"_Waiting is painful. Forgetting is painful. But not knowing which to do is the worst kind of suffering." – Paulo Coelho_

"_Painful as it may be, a significant emotional event can be the catalyst for choosing a direction that serves us – and those around us – more effectively. Look for the learning." Louisa May Alcott_

He was sitting in the shade of the trees near the truck gathering up various supplies and arrows, only allowing himself to steal the occasional glance at Emilia, who sat on the porch steps with Carl. They had been talking since the boy had woken up only a few hours ago, and while he understood that they had a lot to talk about, he was ready for them both to shut up.

Rick and Glenn were just about ready to set out, and with every minute that passed with no move to start the day's search, Daryl felt like Sophia was drifting further and further away.

Still…

_Ain't any harm in appreciating the view I suppose…_

He felt like a bumbling idiot after what he'd said to her on the porch the night before and he was just glad Carol or anyone else hadn't heard. He knew it was going to be awkward spending the day looking for Sophia with her, but when Rick offered to pair up with her and send Glenn with him in her place, Daryl had turned him down. She hadn't been nearly as bad as he'd initially thought, helping him clear out the farm house with no close calls, and that was just what he'd told Rick.

But that was only part of it.

Someone had hurt her bad, and while he was the last person he'd expect anyone to want to open up to, something he could only describe as curiosity compelled him to try to learn more about her. And as many times as he told himself she'd be dead within the week, there was a part of him that felt like she was worth trying to keep alive.

He looked up from his pack and back to her. The scar that blinded her left eye was hardly visible from a distance, the bright morning sunlight blending it in with the rest of her pale skin. It wasn't nearly as off-putting as she clearly felt it was, what with her always brushing her bangs out to cover her eye. Daryl had a few that were worse, though his father had been kind enough to leave them on places that were easy to conceal.

He frowned, his mind conjuring up other horrors that sick fucker of a man could have inflicted upon her. Daryl clenched his fist around the strap of his pack until his knuckles went white.

"See something you like?"

Daryl's shoulders twitched in surprise, but he was able to keep himself from jumping completely at the sudden sound of Maggie's voice breaking his train of thought. He turned to face her, giving her a sour look that he hoped made it clear how much he didn't appreciate her sneaking up on him.

She handed him a few bottles of water, "Thought you were some big tracker hot-shot, impossible to sneak up on." She teased with a wicked, smug grin.

"I am," he quickly tossed the bottles into the bag and tightened the draw string before slinging it over his shoulder and grabbing his crossbow. "Best not forget it, woman."

She folded her arms across her chest, her brow raised in silent accusation and amusement.

It didn't go unnoticed by Daryl.

"What?"

Maggie glanced over to the farmhouse and Daryl followed her gaze. Emilia had left Carl by the porch and was walking toward them, working her long hair into a braid as she went. She was wearing worn jeans, the legs of which she had haphazardly tucked into her boots, and a long-sleeved shirt she must have borrowed from Beth or Maggie. Her machetes hung from her belt and swayed in time with her hips with every step she took.

Daryl forced himself to look away.

"You're crazy."

"Am I?" Maggie said in a feigned gasp, "Is there another reason you're drooling over here all by your lonesome?"

"Don't go confusing me with Glenn." Daryl snapped back, desperate to divert her attention and make his escape. "We've got a little girl to find, in case you've forgotten. This chick don't matter, none of ya'll do."

Maggie noticed Emilia was getting close and, much to Daryl's relief, she relented with little more than a roll of her eyes.

* * *

Emilia felt like she had interrupted something the moment she stopped in front of Daryl and Maggie by the truck. She'd smiled, but Daryl hadn't even met her gaze. Maggie on the other hand seemed thoroughly amused with herself.

She couldn't help but feel like she was being left out of a joke.

"Ready to go?" She asked cautiously when Daryl remained silent even after Maggie had greeted her.

"Been ready for a while, was waiting on you." He snapped, "Finished chatting? We got a little girl to find."

Surprised by his tone, Emilia's eyes opened wide and she shifted nervously back a step. She looked at Maggie, who seemed equally put off but like she had a better sense of what was going on.

"I-I'm sorry. I thought Rick and I were –

"Glenn is going with him, yer with me."

He seemed to have noticed her reaction, as his voice did soften some, but she was still rather confused. She instinctively took it personally, but then reminded herself of his guarded nature and what Carol had said the night before.

'_He's just like you and me…'_

Emilia grabbed her own pack from the back of the truck then moved to stand beside Daryl.

"Where are we searching?"

He pulled out a map from his back pocket and smoothed it out on the truck's hood to show her. "Back to the highway. Rick wants us to check for any sign of her being back that way."

Maggie peaked over his shoulder and frowned once she saw where he was pointing on the map. "Dangerous to be so exposed don't ya think?"

"Probably nothing compared to what Sophia's been through." Emilia murmured more to herself than anyone else.

Daryl heard her though and nodded in agreement.

"Whatever the risk is it's worth it." He said gruffly, the rough tone of his voice masking the care of his words.

Emilia couldn't help herself. She looked up at him with a small smile and something akin to admiration or genuine understanding in her eyes.

Daryl didn't see it, but Maggie did.


	10. Better Off Buried

**Disclaimer: **"The Walking Dead" and all characters within belong to the brilliant mind that is Robert Kirkman. Characters you do not recognize from the series belong to me.

I'm terribly sorry for the delay in updating this story! Life has been rather crazy lately and for some reason I've had trouble figuring out where to take this story whenever I got around to taking a look at it. I think I've figured it out now :) I hope this chapter makes up for the short length of the last and for the delay!

All reviews are greatly appreciated! I read them all and they are what motivated me to getting this update done! – Fallon.

**Chapter Eight**

"_I, with a deeper instinct, choose a man who compels my strength, who makes enormous demands on me, who does not doubt my courage, or my toughness, who does not believe me naïve or innocent, who has the courage to treat me like a woman." – Anais Nin_

"_Do not seek the because – in love there is no because, no reason, no explanation, no solutions." – Anais Nin_

It felt like a routine they had shared for months, maybe even years. She followed silently behind him at a safe distance, close enough to have his back should he need it and far enough away to make sure they had eyes on every angle of their surroundings.

She kept one hand on the hilt of her machete at all times as she peered off into the trees, stopping every so often when she thought she heard something.

He quickly glanced back at her over his shoulder.

Daryl hadn't expected it to feel as…natural as it did, especially after his little slip on the porch the night before. The only person he'd ever felt right hunting or tracking with was Merle and he was long gone wherever he was.

"You think she maybe did a circle, made her way back toward the highway?" Emilia asked, her voice a welcome break to the silence.

Daryl shrugged, "Might be the case. I ain't gonna write 'er off as dead just yet."

With his back turned safely towards her, Emilia risked a small smile. On first glance she'd never have pinned someone like Daryl Dixon as the type to risk his neck to save a child. He looked just as tough as he was; rough and hardened by life. Now, regardless of what he thought of her, Emilia was just glad she took that second glance.

"What do you think?" Daryl asked in one quick breath, much to his own surprise. He cleared his throat, "I mean you think she's alive?"

Emilia sighed heavily, not really sure how to answer in a way that wouldn't offend him. He'd taken finding Sophia on as his own mission of sorts and she knew the doubt the others felt ate at him like the rot that inflected the walkers.

"I…I really don't know, Daryl." She said honestly, "She's been gone for so long it's very possible. My gut tells me she's gone. But I want her to be alive; I'm out here with you now because I want to prove myself wrong."

She heard him grumble ahead of her and figured that because he didn't lash out in anger that it must have been a good enough answer. It was certainly the best explanation she had. If the world was normal, Sophia's chances would have been slim after so long alone in the woods. But now that walkers stalked the woods…well, Emilia was just hoping Daryl was right and Sophia had found a safe place to hunker down. That and that the girl had an angel looking out for her, she'd certainly need it in the world she was lost in.

Daryl was silent ahead of her but she could tell he was debating on whether to speak as he kept looking at her over his shoulder. At first she thought maybe there was a walker behind her, but there was none when she checked. Then his eyes kept meeting her own, cold steel blue masking what Emilia swore was nerves.

If she didn't have such horrid scars, Emilia might have thought she was the reason behind the subtle, almost boyish shyness in his eyes.

Being ignored the majority of her life allowed Emilia plenty of time to watch others. She'd never seen anyone look at her like Daryl was though. Over the years she'd seen looks of varying degrees of horror and repulsion, pity and sick amusement or fascination. The looks hurt more than the taunts ever did. They were what burned into her mind, what stayed with her even after the person was long gone. Whatever Daryl was thinking now she couldn't tell, she'd never seen it before.

"So what happened to him?"

His voice tore her from her thoughts. She had an idea of what he was talking about, but hadn't really expected him to bring it up. He didn't seem the type to seek out the details of peoples' pasts, but given what had happened on the porch it seemed like he was trying. And for some reason the idea of answering didn't terrify her. At least, saying the words wasn't nerve-wracking. What Daryl would think of her after she answered concerned her more. But what Carol had said that night on the porch hadn't left her – Daryl was just as messed up as the rest of them.

"Who?"

"The guy who cut you up," Daryl hesitantly looked over his shoulder to her, "who blinded you."

"The system actually worked for once," Emilia shrugged, "bastard got convicted of…well, a lot of bad things and was sent to jail. I turned sixteen not long after that, so I signed myself out of care and got as far away as I could. Less than a year later I heard that he was killed in jail."

Daryl was quiet for a moment and she thought that maybe he was waiting for her to continue or was uncomfortable.

Finally he spoke.

"Sounds like the fucker got what was coming to him."

She gave a small, sad smile.

"I cried tears of joy when I was told." Emilia admitted, "That man tormented me for a year, made my life a living hell. The things he did to me…" Her breath caught in her throat momentarily, "He can rot in whatever level of hell he dug himself into."

Daryl caught the sound of raw emotion in her voice when she wavered and the extreme, frothing anger when she went silent. He wasn't a fool, he'd been through the some of the worst a person can inflict upon another, and he had a damn good guess as to what that man had also done to her. The scars on Emilia's arms made sense now – she'd tried to kill herself because of this man and what he'd done to her.

He stole a quick, almost shy, glance back at her. The very idea that this nameless piece of scum could have forced himself on Emilia made his blood boil like there was a fire under him. He'd heard and seen many horrible things in his life but somehow that such horrors could be inflicted on _her_ of all people made it even more wrong.

"He hurt you bad…didn't he?"

Emilia took a deep, steadying breath. She reminded herself that this was Daryl and for some reason she felt a lot safer in answering.

"Yeah…he did."

She heard him fiddle with something on his crossbow, saw a shiver of tension spread over his back. She feared she'd said too much, revealed more than he was interested in hearing.

"You're here and he ain't, kid. You won, the way the world is now don't matter none."

Before she had a chance to respond, Daryl stopped dead in his tracks and raised his hand to tell her to do the same. He peered into the trees around them, rigid and on edge, like a deer who knew the hunter was close.

"Daryl, what –

"Get down!" He hissed under his breath as he dropped to his knees.

She did as he said, dropping down to the muddy ground, and tried to hear whatever it was that had put him on high alert. She kept one machete freed and raised.

Through the unnerving silence of the woods, Emilia heard it. It started as one low, far off strangled moan but it was quickly joined by others. Soon enough Emilia was unable to distinguish one from the other and could only guess at their numbers. Big or small, there was no doubt in her mind that a herd was getting dangerously close.

She felt like she'd let Daryl down by not hearing them sooner.

"Damn rotten bastards…" Daryl snapped under his breath.

"How close to the highway are we?"

"Under a mile would be my guess."

"Should we try to make it?"

An approaching moan interrupted Daryl as he was about to answer. It was answer enough though.

He risked standing up, albeit briefly, to get a better sense of where the walkers were around them. He spotted three walkers headed their way, though mercifully it didn't seem like they had noticed Daryl and Emilia yet.

Three walkers weren't a problem to take down. All it would take was three well-timed shots from his crossbow. But as he was considering that option he saw more walkers approaching behind the three he'd first spotted. He glanced back at Emilia and saw that her eyes were already fixed on him.

She looked horrified, like for the first time the sheer scope of the apocalypse had hit her.

He might have been able to pick off a few, but she only had her machetes and engaging the herd head on wasn't a smart idea. Especially when she had that look in her eye.

"Daryl…"

The worry in her voice shook him into action.

He said nothing but grabbed her hand and dragged her along as he kept low and made his way back the way they came. The sudden contact startled her but she didn't try to break it.

Daryl's mind was ablaze. If it was just him alone in the woods facing the approaching herd, he'd not have felt this nearly overwhelming panic; that much he knew. But Emilia was with him and he felt compelled to keep her safe. Maybe it was because of his failure to find and save Sophia; at least he hoped it was just that, the alternative was too messy, too complicated.

_Keep your head, Dixon, _he told himself angrily, _keep your head and keep your distance. Whatever it is you feel, bury it._

Going back to the farm with a group of walkers this size on his tail wasn't an option. They needed a place to hide, a place to lay low until it was safe.

Salvation came in the form of a large, rotten log obscured by the underbrush of the forest floor. He made a bee-line toward it and was overjoyed to see that the earth had eroded out from under it, giving them room to slip under. Daryl dropped his crossbow and began scoping out some of the dirt and fallen leaves.

Emilia peeked over the log and her eyes widened.

She'd never been so close to so many and the terror that was ripping through her at the sight of the herd made her feel weak and small – like she did the night she received the scar that blinded her.

Daryl looked up at her and whispered her name. When she said and did nothing except stare straight ahead at the walkers, he reached up and pulled her down, pushing her under the log. He put his crossbow under near her head, being careful to keep the bolt facing out in case a walker got too close and needed to be picked off. He crawled in next. It was tight, and he was forced to remain practically on top of her, propping himself over her by digging his elbows into the earth next to her shoulders.

He tried not to think about the compromising position he'd put himself into and focused on pulling some of the dirt, leaves and muck of the forest floor back in onto them. He hoped it would be enough to camouflage their scent.

The moans were getting closer but hidden under that sickening sound was the sound of Emilia whimpering and quivering underneath him.

He looked down at her and saw her eyes were squeezed shut and her hands were balled up and pressed against her chest. Daryl felt guilty. After what she'd practically revealed to him just moments ago, he was now pressed up against her in an extremely intimate way. He didn't want to bring back such horrible memories for her, ones that she had obviously tried hard to leave buried, but there was nothing he could do right now given the situation they were in.

He tried to focus on what was happening now, and what little of it he could change. He reached back to the hidden knife he kept on his belt and pulled it free, bringing it up and clutching it with one hand, the other holding his crossbow.

If a walker got too close, Daryl was ready.

Daryl was listening carefully for the herd, trying to gage how close the walkers were getting when he felt Emilia's hand press against his chest. He looked back down and saw that she'd opened her eyes, which were now brimming with unshed tears. She wasn't trying to push him off of her, and by the look in her eyes he guessed she wanted to say something but was too afraid to use words.

He was surprised by how damn good it felt to be so close to her. Her full hips pressed against his though were difficult not to notice, as was the heavy rise and fall of her chest as she tried to steady her breathing. And her stark white pale skin, though covered with dirt from their hiding place, looked just as lovely. His own felt rough by comparison as he rubbed against her. And those perfectly full lips, parted slightly as she steadied her breathing, were made no less enticing by the scar that marred them. Daryl looked up at her, saw the worry in her eyes but also the confusion. She must have noticed how his gaze lingered.

He wasn't sure what to say and given the proximity of the walkers, he shouldn't say anything. Instead, he moved his hand from his crossbow and very slowly brushed a stray curl of hair out of her eyes. She swallowed heavily and grabbed his hand, squeezing it tightly as the log above them creaked and moaned as walkers stumbled over and around it.

She still looked absolutely terrified, so he took a risk and leaned down so his lips were pressed closely to her ear. His voice was softer than a whisper.

"Stay still, stay quiet. I won't let them get you, kid."

She nodded quickly and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

He knew what she was trying to do, that she was trying to hide. And he knew it wasn't going to work, but he allowed her to do it nonetheless.

* * *

They had to remain under that log for longer than either had expected. The sky was dark as they crawled out from under their shelter.

The herd had passed by mercifully without noticing them and had veered off in the direction of the highway. As they stood and stretched their aching bodies, Daryl suspected that the highway itself was a no-go. If the herd they'd crossed was any indicator, the highway was overrun and going any closer would have been a death sentence.

If Sophia was there, she wasn't going to be in any state they could save her from. Merely admitting that to himself almost made Daryl sick.

"What now?" Emilia asked as she moved up to stand beside him.

"There's no way we'll make it back to the farm in the dark. We're too far out." He ran his hand through his hair and gave a hushed curse under his breath.

She tentatively out to grab Daryl by the arm. "My old camp site, I don't think we're too far from it."

It was a good idea, better than trying to make it back to the farm. At least there they could lay low for a few hours until the sun was up and making the long trek back to the farm wasn't so dangerous.

"Fine, let's move fast though, get away from the highway."

She kept her pace by his side, just thankful to be moving after so long under that log.

"You know, Sophia probably wasn't there anyway, Daryl."

"Yeah…maybe," he grumbled, and then turned to her, "but thanks."


	11. Bump in the Night

**Disclaimer: **"The Walking Dead" and all characters within belong to the brilliant mind that is Robert Kirkman. Characters you do not recognize from the series belong to me.

A bit of a delay on this – sorry about that! I hope you all enjoy this latest chapter! All reviews are greatly appreciated! I read them all and they are what motivated me to getting this update done! I will apologize now for the cliff hanger at the end, dear readers! I just couldn't help myself! – Fallon.

**Chapter Nine**

"_People living deeply have no fear of death." – Anais Nin _

"_To him who is in fear everything rustles." - Sophocles_

Maggie stood vigilant on the porch, her gaze fixed on the darkness beyond the old farmhouse and her mind ablaze with worry. Daryl and Emilia had yet to return and while she didn't doubt his skill, she still worried something had gone horribly wrong. She gripped the rail, knuckles white from the strain.

Every second felt like an eternity.

"How long have you been out here?"

She turned and saw Glenn standing in the doorway and smiled. He was a good guy, stupid at times, but he had a good heart. She liked how nervous he was around her, liked the way he looked at her with his big, uncertain brown eyes. When he looked at her like that she almost forgot that the world had ended.

"Few hours," she turned back to the darkness, "I keeping thinking they'll be stepping out of the shadows any second."

Somewhere off in the distance the long hoot of an owl echoed between the trees. Crickets sounded from the fields and Glenn tensed up, expecting the blood chilling moan of a walker to join them at any second. It was a tension that had been conditioned into him, something he couldn't shake. Not even on the farm, the little corner of the world that the apocalypse had forgotten.

"I'd take them over a walker any day," Glenn said with a small forced grin as he moved to stand beside her.

Maggie saw the tension in his arms and back. She knew what worried him and chose not to tease him about it. While her father saw them as victims, Maggie's opinion of the "walkers" wasn't as black and white. She wanted it to be something curable, but deep down she knew the truth. She'd never admit that though, would never crush her father's hopes of bringing Annette and the others back. Trying to believe what he did made the ache of their loss somewhat more bearable.

Glenn continued, "Daryl knows what he's doing though. If she was going to get lost out there, there isn't anyone better to have with you."

Maggie suppressed a laugh.

Daryl was smitten with the newest addition to the farm; of that much she was certain. And if he was too damn stubborn to admit it Maggie didn't mind. The idea of someone as seemingly cold and closed off as Daryl squirming and fighting against what he so obviously felt amused her. Emilia was no better, though cold was the last word Maggie would use to describe the young woman. She'd caught her stealing shy glances at Daryl and as painfully sweet as it was, Maggie knew nothing was going to happen between those two if no one had the decency to point out the obvious to them.

_Maybe once they find the little girl,_ Maggie thought to herself. _Maybe then._

"What do you think happened though?" Glenn asked quietly, "I mean…Daryl's careful. And he's the best at tracking. I don't see something sneaking up on him."

Maggie couldn't help herself. She smiled cheekily and spoke in a whisper, "Tracking ain't any easier when a pretty girl's in the picture."

Glenn shot her a confused look.

She wasn't surprised.

Maggie raised a brow and just looked at him until it sunk it.

"Oh…ohhhhh…"

She grabbed his shoulder. "Don't tell anyone, Glenn. No a soul. You hear me?"

He shifted nervously under her gaze. Glenn knew keeping secrets wasn't his strength. When he tried he always felt like everyone was staring at him, like they all knew. That led to nausea and sweating and, eventually, him blurting the whole thing out. He tried telling himself that this wasn't a secret, not really. It was more like a rumor.

"I hear you, I hear you!" He chewed the inside of his lip, "Did Daryl tell you or something?"

Maggie snorted, "Does he seem the type to admit to something like that?"

"No…not really." Glenn conceded after giving it some thought. He took off his cap and ran his fingers nervously through his hair. "How do you know then?"

"Caught him staring at her before they headed out, he was looking at her with these big puppy-dog eyes," she smirked and reached out to touch Glenn's chin as if to rub something off, "might have been some drool too." She teased.

Glenn blushed.

"But really, Glenn, this is between you and me, all right?" Maggie said in a serious tone in the hopes that would make it sink in for him, "If you tell it won't be me chasing after you with a bat it will be Daryl…and the man has a crossbow."

Glenn could picture it in his mind well enough. He didn't intend on making it a reality. Dodging walkers was hard enough; crossbow bolts would be even harder.

"Point taken."

* * *

They didn't make it to Emilia's old camp.

Half way there, a small group of walkers crossed their path. There had only been three of them and Daryl managed to take two out before they were close enough for Emilia to take care of the third, but they heard more in the direction of her former hideaway.

It was faint over the whistling of the cold night wind through the trees, but Emilia had heard it. Much to her surprise Daryl had trusted her judgement when she brought it to his attention and changed direction. She felt horrible, like she had let him down earlier and she expected him to hold it against her. After all, she had frozen when confronted by the herd – how could he rely on her to cover his back? But she felt no animosity from him, not right now at least, only raw determination. And for some reason he made sure she remained close, his hand gripping hers tightly and jerking her this way and that as he moved between the trees.

Daryl looked back at her, saw the fear in her eyes…and the moonlit silhouettes of walkers behind them.

In all his years tracking and hunting, spending more time in forests then indoors, Daryl had never felt so panicked or at such a loss. They could hardly keep running until daylight came, as panicked as they were they'd both get turned around and end up as lost as Sophia was. And he wasn't about to lose someone else to the walkers in the woods. Not _her_.

She hissed his name as the sound of walkers grew closer. Her sheathed machetes slapped against her thighs as she moved, but the protection they offered her did nothing to steady the panic in her heart.

He tightened his hold on her and trudged onward.

The ground gave out below them and they tumbled down the slope, grunting as rocks and gnarled tree roots dug into their bodies and landing with a thud ten feet down. His back and legs ached and throbbed horribly, but he knew he couldn't stop now. He quickly located his crossbow and reached back for Emilia.

He felt her but she wasn't grabbing his outstretched hand. He turned around with the intent to shoot her a lethal glare, but the pained look on her face stopped him.

She was trying to get up but failing, her weight slipping out from under her every time she tried to steady herself. She was trembling violently.

He knelt down beside her and cursed under his breath when he realized what was wrong.

"No…no, no, no, no…" He said in a panicked whisper as he quickly brushed her hair out of her face.

In the chaos of the fall, their bodies tumbling over each other and striking the jutting rocks, the bundle of arrows he had strapped to his lower back had come loose. He could see a few of them scattered out in the dirt around him but he was only concerned with one.

She leaned forward, holding herself up with one hand, the other grasped around the crossbow bolt that jutted out of her shoulder. Her lips opened and closed but no sound escaped.

He'd failed her, he hadn't been good enough…that was all that rushed through his mind as he looked down at her.

_Think Dixon, think!_

Acting quickly, Daryl ripped back the shoulder of her shirt, exposing the wound. He tore off one of the sleeves of his own shirt and tied one end around the arrow before wrapping the length of fabric around her neck and bringing it back again, stabilizing it as best he could. He checked but the tip of the arrow hadn't pushed through the other side of her shoulder.

_Fuck…_

He knew it was going to be a bitch to get out. It would have to be forced through the remainder of her flesh and muscle until the tip poked through and could be broken off. It would _have_ to be done but the thought of causing her more pain in order to relieve it didn't sit well with him.

She was the last person he wanted to hurt and that he had done this to her, as accidental as it was, infuriated him.

Emilia looked up at him with wide, pained eyes.

The walkers were getting closer; Daryl knew that without having to check. Whatever he was going to do, he had to do it now.


End file.
